Wolf of the Reach
by Ender Mahe
Summary: Rewrite of Aurigan Reach campaign but with more canon-friendly forces, more rational decisions from Espinosa and Kamea, and motivations for the Houses supporting the Restoration effort are... mixed, at best. More emphasis on what's happening just outside the Periphery and how those political moves influence the Restoration and the Reach at large.
1. Prologue

**Wolf of the Reach**

"_Mercenaries are useful, if dangerous weapons. But there are rare examples that are still more useful, and even more dangerous; mercenaries that understand politics."_

_High Lady Kamea Arano_

**Prologue**

**February 4****th****, 3022**

**Royal Palace, Cordia City on Coromodir VI, capital of the Aurigan Coalition**

"Brother, please allow me to explain."

High Lord Tamati Arano sat back on the comfortable throne at the heart of the Royal Palace as the other members of the Founding Council, both House Representatives and elected Planetary Representatives, filed out. He glanced over the massive conference table displays still glowing with countless figures and details from their gridlocked discussions of the Taurian proposal. He wanted no more than to retire for the evening.

But it was his duty, both as family and as liege lord, to hear out what his brother Lord Santiago Espinosa, his strong right hand, had to say. "Alright, Santiago. My brain is a little overwhelmed at the moment, so give me the simple version. Again."

Lord Espinosa took it as a good sign the High Lord hadn't rolled his eyes. Perhaps he was making some progress after all. "Tamati, we are at a very vulnerable moment for our fledgling Aurigan Coalition. Our grandparents formalized the trading arrangements into the Coalition because they recognized that the Inner Sphere is too busy fighting each other to come back out and reclaim the Periphery any time soon."

Tamati smiled. "Our grandparents probably would have said come back and 'rescued' us, but yes, I'm with you so far."

"So the key point is, we're a hodgepodge of races and cultures without any strong sense of shared identity. The original colonists were from the Free Worlds League, itself a mishmash, but then our coreward systems were ruled by the Capellan Federation before they withdrew. Our spinward and rimward systems were ruled by the Taurian Concordat before they unofficially withdrew."

"Santiago, I am well aware of all this. What's your point?"

Lord Espinosa took a slow breath and spoke deliberately. "The point is that most of our people in the Aurigan Reach hold more loyalty to their planets and local House than to the Coalition. Everyone knows that some sort of agreement needs to be reached with the Taurians over our forward systems—whatever their claims, they withdrew their appointed governors and packed up more than a generation ago. But their new Protector, Thomas Calderon, is prickly and militaristic enough that we can't afford to seriously antagonize him. In short, if the Coalition can't reach an accommodation, then the Houses will try to make a deal on their own, and we risk the entire Coalition coming apart."

Tamati frowned. "I confess I hadn't quite thought of it in those terms, but we are keenly aware of how important these negotiations are. That's why we have these unbearably long Council sessions discussing them."

"Yes, but we're not _getting_ anywhere." Santiago sighed and held up a hand waving off Tamati's objection. "I know you think I'm impatient, Tamati, and I am aware I sometimes jump before I look, but in this case the appearance of progress is almost as important as the reality. Everyone knows we _must_ succeed here. There is enormous pressure on the Council as an executive body. The Council has hung together this far, but to be frank, I think a lot of it is out of habit and their long-time friendship and relationship with you as High Lord."

The High Lord in question gave Espinosa a measuring look. "You're building up to something Santiago. Spit it out."

"Tamati… it may prove necessary, for the good of the Coalition, for you to _make_ the Council formulate a reasonable proposal."

"You're talking about seizing power," accused Tamati flatly.

"I'm talking about _temporarily_ consolidating _executive_ power to ensure that these vital negotiations succeed. You know how the game is played Tamati! The Taurians aren't just negotiating, they're testing us, seeing if we'll crack under pressure and be vulnerable to 'reclamation.' With the Capellans pressuring us to coreward, the Taurians to spinward, and the economy slowing down as the effects of the Inner Sphere's endless war finally reach us, the elected Planetary Representatives are feeling pressured by their constituents to try hold out for better terms in the for their planets. They're playing hot potato, and as long as they're not the one holding things up when it comes apart, they won't feel the heat because their political base is pleased. The Houses plan longer term and they can see the writing on the wall; they'll support you in, again, _temporarily_ restricting proposal votes to the High Lord and the Founding Houses."

For the first time Tamati hesitated. "You have a point about the Planetary Representatives, especially the less-developed ones. They're definitely holding up the negotiations. Still… this would undercut the Council's authority, which could have long-term consequences."

"But they're _survivable_ consequences! You can even keep the proposal unofficial until it's ratified by the whole Council, including the Planetary Representatives! They'll vote for a _complete_ for a completed deal, whatever is in it, because we all know we need it, but for heaven's sake get them out of the proposal negotiations!"

Tamati nodded slowly. "Santiago, you may be on to something here. Let me think about it. The Council's recessing for a week and I'm scheduled to tour the Artru system and inspect their newly established House Guard. When I get back, we'll hammer this into something that's as… inoffensive, and clearly temporary, as possible. Assuming I don't think better of it between then and now."

"Thank you, brother. I know how much you dislike even the appearance of power mongering, and I know it's part of that which makes you so successful with both the commoners and the Houses. But this time, I truly believe this is necessary."

"I know, Santiago, I know." He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "And I also know that my tendency towards building consensus can occasionally, _occasionally, _cause more problems than it solves. That's one of the many reasons I rely on you to help me see when those moments arrive. Don't worry—we'll navigate this storm together, as we always have."

The High Lord gave Lord Espinosa a final hug, then turned and walked confidently out of the Council chambers, his robes of state gently swishing across the floor in his wake.

It was the last time Santiago saw his High Lord and brother alive.

**February 18****th****, 3022**

**Cordia City on Coromodir VI, capital of the Aurigan Coalition**

High Lord Tamati Arano II was dead. It was hard to take in, but Lord Espinosa was filled with an almost frantic energy, impatiently awaiting the end of the massive state funeral being broadcast throughout the Aurigan Reach. _Bad maintenance, they said. His JumpShip disintegrated out from under him. Just another example of our crumbling technology base._

At last the ceremony ground to a halt and the procession back to the Royal Palace began, in which the High Lord's family would walk together. His daughter Victoria took up position at his side, a half-pace back, and he followed just behind Lady Kamea Arano.

He stepped closer. "Kamea, may I have a few moments of your time?"

Kamea Arano, sole child of Tamati and Serena Arano, soon to be High Lady of the Aurigan Reach, and recently orphaned twenty-three-year-old girl, looked up from the parade ground and tried to blink away her tears. "Yes, uncle?"

Santiago hid a sympathetic wince at the pain in her eyes, her voice raspy from private sobbing. "Kamea, I am so sorry that this has happened. And I am so sorry that this burden has fallen on you, but we _must_ face the trials that confront us." He glanced around quickly, ensuring that House Espinosa guards were nearby preventing any unknown ears from getting too close.

"Kamea, as I advised your father, I now advise you; you need to move now to consolidate executive power. I know it's complicated, and I wish to the stars you weren't forced into this position so quickly and without time to grieve, but we _must_ act now. The Taurians are testing the waters, retracting some of their already negotiated concessions, probing us for a response, and I've heard some concerning whispers of independent movement among the Founding Houses. We _must_ move now, removing the Planetary Representatives from negotiations and reassuring the Houses that you have a strong and confident hand."

Kamea pulled herself to her full height, doing her best to look regal, despite the puffy bags under her eyes. "I will show strength by holding fast to our traditions. How will it unify the Houses to see me immediately consolidate power on the Council, which you and I control? And how will the people be loyal to me, look to me for leadership, if my first act is to remove their voice?" She shook her head in a maddeningly superior sort of way. "No, uncle. I have thought about your suggestion for some time, but the answer is no. We have survived this long by doing what is right, and my reign will continue in that tradition."

She increased her pace, a dismissal of a sort, and Santiago slowed slightly to allow Kamea her space and let Victoria, a pace behind him, catch up. "As I feared, she will not listen." He shook his head in quiet exasperation. "She would make a fine High Lady, with the confidence to make her own decisions, if only she had more time to grow into the role. What I wouldn't give to provide her that time! But she remains too naïve and too unwilling to even listen to advice right now, in the critical moment. If only Tamati and Serena hadn't died in that fool accident!"

He grimaced then smoothed his face, conscious of the possibility of cameras. "Unfortunately, that accident appears to be caused by shoddy maintenance, a sign that our technology base continues to crumble. The situation with the Taurians needs to be resolved now, before we collapse completely."

Victoria looked up at him, her long silver hair matching the ibex of House Espinosa on her dress uniform. "I understand, father, but why are you telling _me _this?"

"Because with your mother gone, it is to you that I turn for help. Look at me, Victoria. I feel like I am being torn to pieces. My grief at Tamati's death I fear clouds my judgment, and yet we must press on, doing the best we can, because I have received word that Simon Karosas, leader of House Karosas, has been making quiet overtures to the Taurians, and possible the Capellans as well. It is already unraveling, and if it gets any worse the the Houses will compromise everything in the search for a soft landing."

Victoria stared at him with wide eyes. "But surely there's time to convince Kamea, to punish Lord Karosas for his crimes?"

"I… I don't know. All I know now is that Kamea is not up to this challenge. She does nothing, makes no decisions, because power is not formally hers yet, showing how poorly she understands the galaxy and, more importantly, how little she understands about her responsibility to the Aurigan people. She still thinks it's about her."

Victoria glanced around, taking in their security arrangements. "Father, what do you think will happen?"

"My best guess… I think the Taurians will drag their feet with negotiating the treaty until the coronation, at which point they will break them off completely. Kamea will have no way to respond. We already effectively hold the systems in question, so we can't take them over to force the issue, and military action against the Taurians directly is out of the question given how much stronger their military is. Remaining in the systems invites the new Protector Calderon, who by all accounts is eager to prove his strength, to try 'liberating' them, and just ceding the systems leaves our key system of Guldra just a jump away and vulnerable. While we could never hope to hold off the Taurians in a direct fight, having a defense-in-depth would make us prohibitively expensive to conquer. Whatever Calderon wants, his senior military leaders will argue hard against any sort of protracted conflict with us with the huge threat of the Federated Suns on their _other_ border, but if they could take Guldra and Mechdur without having to punch through any other systems, the temptation might be enough. And this is to say mothering of our crumbling tech base."

"So, you're saying that we cannot win by waiting. Then how do we save the Reach?"

"I wish there was another way, but the only way I can see is to do something terrible, Victoria. Something… treasonous." He grimaced. "The only way I can see to save the Reach is to strike first."


	2. Political Expedience

**Chapter 1: Political Expedience**

_Congratulations little lordlings, you have lived lives of exceptional privilege giving you the means and opportunity to learn to pilot a BattleMech; now get over it. For most, if not all of you, this will be your first time at the bottom of the totem pole. Accept it. Embrace it, and you may survive your initial encounters with hostile forces._

_Now I know you have those fancy educations, but here are some basics so I know you all have some idea of what I'm talking about. First, 'Mechs are not magic, and the laws of physics haven't changed. Wheels and treads remain far more efficient than 'Mech legs. The discovery of myomer narrowed the gap some, but the fact remains that for the price of one 'Mech mounting a mid-range Assault Cannon 5, you can buy four heavy tanks with those same AC/5s. _

_The reason we use 'Mechs, as expensive as they are, is not because they allow lords and ladies to look down commoners in tanks – I can't tell you how many mechs have been destroyed by underestimating tanks over the years. 'Mechs are mainstay military assets instead of niche assault units because the real limiting factor in inter-system military action is not the direct price of the weapon, it's the price-per-ton to move 'em to where they need to go, and to a lesser extent the available tonnage on JumpShips. Ton-for-ton, no tank will ever match a mech. _

_So here's your first lesson. When you're talking inter-system conflict, tanks for defense, 'Mechs for offense, and if there are any 'Mech Warrior mercenaries in-system, it's usually cheaper to hire them then wait and pay for space on the next JumpShip scheduled to move through the system, because I can tell you right now that the Aurigan Coalition won't be able to afford purely military JumpShips anytime soon, if ever._

_Lesson number two—the weakest portion of any 'Mech you'll ever pilot is you. A heavy 'Mech can withstand dozens of long-range AC/2 high-explosive, armor-piercing rounds. You could be killed by the whiplash of that same round passing too close to you. 'Mechs are designed to protect their pilots but being anywhere where that kind of firepower is being thrown around isn't kind to weak bodies. So you're going to think on those first two lessons while you work up some sweat on the track. On your feet people, move!_

…

"Though the whole galaxy be at war, the greatest risk to any noble is not guns, it's politics. Politics tell the guns who to shoot."

I'll never forget that lesson I learned while studying under "Mastiff," the fiercely loyal Sir Raju Montgomery. The lesson didn't really sink in at the time, living it up as the privileged, spoiled young lord and designated heir of House Melodan.

And so I had to learn it the hard way.

House Melodan, for as big as it made me feel, was a very small fish. When the Star League broke up and the Star League Defense Force abandoned the known galaxy, the remaining players in the Inner Sphere fought it out until the pecking order was clear. The Draconis Combine under House Kurita, the Federated Suns under House Davion, the Capellan Confederation under House Liao, the Free Worlds League under House Marik, and the Lyran Commonwealth under House Steiner. Mess with one of the Inner Sphere powers and you die.

That's what we did, even if only by accident. We were from a little system called Hasturr in unclaimed space between the Free Worlds League and one of the Periphery powers, the Magistracy of Canopus. The Magistracy wanted us to rejoin after they'd abandoned the system earlier in the Third Succession War still being fought in an on-again, off-again kind of way. My parents were thrilled, of course; being a part of the aristocracy of the Magistracy, even as a small part, is _much_ more glamorous than being some single-system independent. They started preparing to formalize the transition.

But as Raju tried to teach me, politics kills. The Magistracy made the offer, but they delayed in formalizing it to prod the Free Worlds League into responding before they were committed. The League was still recovering from a brutal civil war and highly publicized treason trials back in 3015. By having our little House Melodan with our single old family Blackjack medium BattleMech "start" the transition without offering any formal protection to us, they were effectively asking permission of the League while maintaining deniability.

And the League responded by assassinating my entire family: parents, brother, and two sisters. I was away training in the Blackjack, undoubtedly not an accident, and returned to find everything destroyed.

The Magistracy, in a pang of guilty conscience, evacuated me and let me keep the 'Mech (I suspect in part due to the Blackjack's undeserved bad reputation), but that was as far as they would go. I couldn't stick around as a reminder to the League of how the Magistracy had prodded them, so they shipped me out to the east and the back-end of beyond, the Aurigan Reach, where a new upstart kingdom calling itself the Aurigan Coalition had been set up a generation or two back in the space left vacant when the Capellan Federation and the Federated Suns pulled back to form more defensible borders. The Reach had swapped hands a couple of times since, last held by the other Periphery power, the Taurian Concordat, before the Aurigan Coalition made their claim stick.

It's not an enviable position, sandwiched between the Inner Sphere's to the galactic north and the Taurians to the east. They have some wiggle room to the galactic west, at least until they run into the Magistracy.

Of course, I should have known that wasn't the end of the politics. The Magistracy has always prided itself on being clever, and they'd hit on a cute solution to the problem of their embarrassing noble survivor, yours truly. Who should I hear was going to be waiting for me on the Aurigan capital world of Coromidir VI than the Mastiff himself, Sir Raju Montgomery. They'd done me a favor by sending me to a friend, done Raju a favor by sending him a trusted ally during a time of internal political tension, all while sending a subtle signal of support to the new ruler just prior to the coming coronation of Lady Kamea Arano to High Lady of the Aurigan Coalition.

And that's where my story really starts.

**April 2****nd****, 3022**

**Coromodir VI, Aurigan Coalition**

_At least the view is nice, _thought Donavan Melodan, last of the House of Melodan, as he looked out the viewscreen as they made the final approach. Coromodir VI was a beautiful world, apparent from the moment the venerable old Leopard 'Mech Carrier broke atmosphere. Despite Inner Sphere levels of population, the tropical world remained something of a paradise. The Leopard eased itself down onto the landing pad and its bay doors opened with a hiss, allowing a wave of hot humidity to roll Donavan, immediately drenching him in sweat.

Sir Raju moved deliberately up the loading ramp as soon as the doors clamped into position and grasped him firmly by the hand with a welcoming smile. "Donavan! It's good to see you, son."

Choked with unexpected emotion, Donavan turned the handshake into a hug, which Raju accepted without hesitation. "Sir, it's good to see a friendly face."

The old warrior chuckled, giving him a pat on the back before releasing the hug. "It's been a long time since I was your instructor, please it's Raju." His smile turned grim. "I heard about your family. I'm sorry."

Donavan winced, but nodded as the jolt of pain receded. "Thanks. It's… it is what it is." He gave himself a shake and stepped up to the ramp and looked out over the view beyond the spaceport. "It's a beautiful world here, but that tends to invite a lot of interest. And if the Magistracy is sending a 'Mech pilot as a gesture of good will, that starts me thinking that this might not be a relaxing stay."

Raju stepped up beside him, leaning against the railing. "You're move right than you know, but we shouldn't talk here. Get your 'Mech over to the Espinosa Refit Yards to have your Blackjack looked over. The BJ-1's are tough, but even they need maintenance after the better part of a month of interstellar travel. Once your 'Mech is taken care of, meet me at the Royal Palace and we'll talk." Raju turned and gave him another handshake and warm smile. "It really is good to see you, despite the circumstances. Here, I've prepared a download for you with general background, traffic control frequencies, and the local layout. Good luck, and I'll see you at the Palace."

…

Donavan frowned out the cockpit of the Blackjack while he waited for Cordia traffic control to clear him to move down the 'Mechway towards the Espinosa Refit Yards. Cordia was all geared up for the coronation, decked out in innumerable banners of a gold cormorant on a field of red. He'd used the optical zoom on his neurohelmet to read the motto 'Foresight and Vision' on the banners. Yet despite the festive atmosphere, Raju's download had made it clear that beneath the surface, tension was boiling, with a whole host of contributing factors. First on the list, the Taurians were getting restive and refocusing on reclaiming their old territories.

The com buzzed with approval and he cautiously put the Blackjack into motion, conscious of the crowd of vehicles using the specially reinforced highway beneath his feat. The road went out of its way to stay out of weapons range of the Palace itself, and through a gap in the buildings he caught a glimpse of the massive formerly-Taurian fortress from which the High Lady would reign. He shook his head—a case in point, really.

The second problem was that the Aurigan Coalition had a weak executive power. The lords with the biggest sticks on their respective planets had put together a trade deal that gradually firmed into an alliance, but it was the rare sovereign that voluntarily surrendered significant power to a greater body, which left with the Coalition without a strong executive power. The ostensible leading house, the Aranos, were more beholden to the other nobles on the Founding Council than most realms. Still, the second-biggest player, House Espinosa, had married into the Aranos, and together they held pretty convincing sway.

Next, their already uncertain executive powers had never been tested until now. The original kingdom had been quite modest, just four systems, but they'd over-reached by growing into twenty-three in a single century, and the economic downswing from the never-ending Third Succession War had made its way to the Periphery and hit the Aurigans hard. From what he could tell, they'd been investing heavily in their newer territories, which made the Aranos popular in the outlying systems, but once the squeeze started to set in, it hurt the economic powers-that-be on Coromodir VI badly, building up resentment. How angry were the natives? How loyal were the outer systems? Who knew?

Fourth, and worst of all, was a leadership vacuum. High Lord Tamati Arano II and his wife had died a little over a month ago in a tragic, and somewhat mysterious, JumpShip accident. It was unexpected enough, and the Aurigan Coalition was young enough, that their interrim succession procedures were basically non-existent, meaning that they were effectively leaderless until the _official _succession coronation. '_Foresight and Vision' indeed._

The Blackjack rounded a bend on the 'Mechway and the Espinosa Refit Yard came into view. The place was a hive of activity, with dozens of 'Mechs of various types being worked on furiously by an army of 'Mech Techs. He stopped at the entryway to await directions and took a deep breath.

As bad as it looked, they might be able to keep a lid on it. Whatever happened among the outlying areas, Raju was confident in his download that so long as they hung onto Coromodir V, ruled by House Espinosa, and the Arano's Coromodir VI they could keep it from coming apart.

A small vehicle with furiously blinking lights rolled to a stop in front of the Blackjack and he eased the 'Mech into motion, following the guide and carefully backing into a 'Mech repair stall and shutting down, locking the myomer muscles in place.

Donavan took another breath and looked out the cockpit at the small army of 'Mechs, wielding more firepower in one place than he'd ever seen outside of Magistracy space. It looked like the Espinosas certainly agreed; they were concentrating their forces on Coromodir VI and near the capital, just in case.

He popped the hatch and climbed out onto the catwalks, leaving the neurohelmet on the pilot's couch behind him, to face a mechanic officer frowning over a clipboard. "BJ-1, registered to a House Melodan. Weapon loadout of four Intek medium lasers and the Whirlwind-L AC/2's." The middle-aged, pudgy man looked up and gave the 'Mech a quick appraising glance. "Kept the stock loadout, huh? Any issues with them?"

Donavan shook his head. "No, though they haven't been test-fired in a couple weeks."

"Uh huh." The mechanic looked over his shoulder. "Oi, chief! I've got the Blackjack here. Is it in the once-over group, or the works group?"

Another mechanic dressed in the same bright orange jumpsuit, though not nearly as stained, looked up from a tablet and stepped over. "The Blackjack? The full works." He looked Donavan up and down, then turned back to his subordinate. "This here's a special attaché to the Mastiff and Lady Arano herself." The chief gave his man a meaningful look. "Make sure you're thorough." With that he gave Donavan a nod and walked away.

The mechanic shrugged. "Right. Well, I guess you're a VIP now, so you'll get rush priority. Let's talk guts. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you've got the stock GM-180 fusion engine in there. And since the GM production line on Kathul got wrecked back around 2800, that means that bad boy is over 200 years old. Sometimes old engines take a disliking to our humidity, so we're gonna open her up and take a look. Next, those Whitworth Jetlifts are gonna need a review to make sure they meet Coromodir emission standards, and then…"

Sometime later Donavan escaped the Espinosa yards, both reassured that they knew what they were doing and feeling vaguely like both he and his 'Mech had been insulted. Still, the Blackjack was getting a much-needed maintenance check and he didn't have to pay for it, so he was going to count that as a win.

He'd taken a walk through the marketplace, enjoying the taste of real, non-recycled air and taking in the warm, gently sloping architecture style. The oppressively hot atmosphere drove him back inside relatively quickly and he took the tube transportation to the Palace, passing through increasingly thick layers of security as he got closer.

The palace itself had legions of troops wearing House Arano and House Espinosa emblems beneath the Arano (and therefore Aurigan) cormorant crest. After getting directions a couple times he was finally able to find his room. It was quite small but lavishly adorned, and he sat on the sinfully comfortable couch to wait for Raju, closing his eyes to rest just for a moment…

**April 3****rd****, 3022**

**Royal Palace, Cordia City, Coromodir VI, Aurigan Coalition**

Donavan darted awake at the sound of a knock on his door, glancing around quickly while he remembered where he was. It dawned on him that the light pouring through the window meant it was morning—he'd slept through the night on the couch. The knock came again, and he hauled himself to his feet to get the door.

"Donavan, I'm sorry I wasn't able to—you look like hell, man." Raju shook his head fondly. "Maybe it's for the best I got held up last night. Get yourself cleaned up and I'll be back in twenty minutes."

He did as he was told, and shortly thereafter Raju was leading him out through the city, leading the way towards a private vehicle and driving outside of Cordia City into the countryside. Donavan gave him a questioning glance, wondering what was so important it would get the Mastiff away from his responsibility while things were so tense, but Raju just shook his head. So instead they talked about small things, shared memories from back on Hastur, the similarities and differences in culture, 'Mechs they'd wanted to pilot.

After about an hour Raju pulled off the road and rounded a bend to reveal the sea. They left the car and hiked over a couple sand dunes to settle down on an overlook where the breeze took off the worst of the heat and the sounds of crashing waves filled the air.

Raju sat silently for a long moment looking out over the peaceful scene, then sighed. "Alright, we're here. I'm sure you're wondering why we came all this way, but the capital is filled with ears right now. I can be sure we're alone, and the ocean should drown out any long-range listening devices. I can't stay out of sight for long, so let's get to it. I assume you read the download?"

Donavan nodded. "This place is a pressure cooker."

"It is. That brings us to you. You're a complete unknown in the power dynamics down here, which means Lady Arano and I can count on you. In part because of our shared history, but also, and forgive me for being blunt, but because you've got nowhere else to go."

Donavan nodded. After what the Magistracy did to his family, there was zero chance he'd spy for them. Tactful of Raju not to bring that up.

"The Aranos have a tradition, an important one, however foolish it is at a time like this. The ascending High Lord or Lady and the Captain of the Guard march in BattleMechs from the highlands up the Cormorant Road to the capital, retracing the steps of High Lady Keona Arano in her final campaign to take the city from the local tyrant lord, and in the process marking the formal beginning of House Arano's reign. They're supposed to do it in radio silence to contemplate the price paid by the people of Coromodir."

Raju grimaced. "I argued with Lady Arano to forget that particular facet of the tradition, and I'll keep arguing right up until we're en route tomorrow morning, but I'm not counting on changing her mind. I've been her tutor since she was fourteen, and while she's honorable and earnest, she can still be a bit naïve at times. So since she's going to play fair, I'll be cheating instead. First, I'm bringing you on as an unscheduled honor guard."

Despite the serious situation, Raju managed a small smile. "That's quite an honor, and if this all blows over I'm sure you'll be an object of fascination at court as they try to guess your royal connection." The smile died. "The real reason you'll be there is that right at this moment, you are one of the very few people I'd trust near Lady Arano with a weapon. Second, I've ordered the Royal Guard to break radio silence with us the moment anything goes wrong. And third, I've made sure only House Arano and House Espinosa Royal Guard are placed along the route. So… questions?"

Donavan took a moment to think, trying to absorb all of that. "Any idea what the most likely threats are?"

The old pilot shrugged. "Hard to say. Taurian movement along the border has me concerned. House Calderon has always been a touch paranoid, and the current Protector Calderon seems to fit the mold. An assassination as a prelude to invasion? Normally I'd say they're too focused on their grudge with the Federated Suns to bother, but at this point I'm not ruling out anything."

Donavan nodded, looking out over the see. "Fair enough. Be ready for anything. What about the locals? Who are the major players?"

"There's Lady Arano, of course, who is now the head of House Arano. Her closest ally is her uncle Santiago Espinosa, head of House Espinosa of Coromodir V, and his daughter Victoria. I've only tutored her for the last local season, but she is focused, dedicated, and fiercely loyal to the family, on top of being a very promising pilot. The other biggest Houses involved are House Decimis, House Gallas, House Karosas, House Madeira, and House Parata. Lady Arano is very good friends with one of the Madeira boys, but that's the extent of it within the system. They each have dozens of minor houses beneath them, of course."

Donavan felt like his head was spinning from the sheer number of names being thrown at him, and Raju smiled knowingly. "Look, I know I'm throwing you in the deep end here, so let's keep it simple. Let me worry about all the factions and Houses. All I'm asking you it do is to stick in tight with us tomorrow and keep Lady Arano safe. Hopefully this will all turn into nothing and we can kick back over some drinks and laugh about what a paranoid old man I've become. Until then, keep an eye on your six. And Donavan… thanks for doing this."

The ride back had been quiet, both of them holding onto the quiet peace of the beach for as long as they could.

Raju dropped him off at his room and ordered food sent up, then immediately left to attend what sounded like a dozen meetings. For his part, Donavan paced with restless energy, deeply worried about what the next day would bring, yet eager for it to come to get it over with, for better or worse.


	3. Coronation Day

**Chapter 2: Coronation Day**

**April 4****th****, 3022**

**Cormorant Road outside Cordia City, Coromodir VI, Aurigan Coalition**

Donavan tried to keep himself from bouncing up and down in the cockpit nervously, succeeding mostly due to the suspicion that Sir Raju could see straight through his cockpit to watch him. The man was far too adept at reading him. And for all the reassurance his old teacher's presence brought, the man had been true to his word; he'd brought a CN9-A Centurion, as close to a jack-of-all-trades 'Mech as there was, with a Western Heavy AC/10 for up close, two Hellion medium lasers for mid-range, and a Jackson Long Range Missile-10 launch rack for distance. He was ready for anything, which meant he didn't have any better of an idea of what they were up against than he did.

The heads-up display in his neurohelmet pinged, and he keyed his com. "I've got 'Mech contacts."

"I see them too. It should be Lady Arano and her Royal Guard escort, but keep your eyes open."

A few minutes later and they came into view, four Shadowhawks forming a phalanx around a single Kintaro, with two light Panthers scouting the way. Raju gave them a terse welcome, and only seemed to relax once they delivered Lady Arano and turned back, leaving the three 'Mechs to themselves.

"Sir Raju, it's good to see you. And this must be the student of yours."

Donavan swallowed. The Aurigan Coalition may be small compared to the Magistracy of Canopus or the Taurian Concordat in the Periphery, much less the Inner Sphere Houses, but she was no doubt the single most powerful person he was ever likely to meet, commander of over a hundred BattleMechs.

"Indeed, it is. My lady, allow me to introduce Donavan, last of House Melodan. Donavan, this is Lady Kamea Arano, the soon-to-be High Lady of the Aurigan Coalition. Is Lady Victoria on this channel?"

A new voice chimed in. "For the time being. My father has summoned me to the Pickton Docks—I have a fleet inspection and a tour of the family refit yards to preside over while you're enjoying your stroll. Behold, the responsibilities of a noble daughter, a font of tedium that never runs dry."

Kamea apparently couldn't let that go unanswered. "I know, Victoria. By this time tomorrow I'll be responsible for the entire Aurigan Reach."

Donavan blinked in his cockpit, somewhat relieved to be being ignored, but thrown by the Lady's comment. It could have come off as bragging, but instead it was almost rambling, nervous. She seemed to catch herself and hurried on in a firmer voice. "Give my best to your father, and don't be late for the tourney. The gambling dens are already taking bets on how long it will take me to cripple that customized monstrosity you pilot."

Victoria gave a single harsh laugh. "Bold words, cousin, but the only victory they'll be celebrating is mine. You might be ascending the throne today, but my Kaga is more than a match for the family heirloom that you call a BattleMech, and in the arena, I reign supreme."

"We'll see, Victoria, we'll see. At any rate, I will see you at the tourney grounds." She took a steadying breath, audible over the com. "And now, it's time. Sir Raju lead the way. Commencing radio silence."

Raju's Centurion stepped out to take point, and Donavan quickly fell into position beside him as they started up the trail towards Cordia City. While they passed a couple of small townships, where people cheered and waved while carefully watched over by Royal Guard in light 'Mechs, there were few and all passed early on during the surprisingly long trip.

The silence was eerie. BattleMechs were incredibly expensive machines that required significant support staff to maintain and field. On top of that, the 'Mech itself was constantly keeping in contact with the rest of the Lance, as well as the command unit, dedicating an entire subsystem to communications. Between the MechTechs, lance members, command, and other communication needs, the last thing he'd ever felt in the Blackjack was isolated. But now…

Now he found himself watching the trees and rolling hills go by, and remembering other times marching along in Sir Raju's wake.

The odd sense of serenity shattered as the com squawked to life with Sir Raju's sharp voice. "Look ahead, that's smoke. There should be a guard post there, one of the small ones leading into the capital. No word on the emergency band."

They moved ahead cautiously as the burnt-out remains of the outpost came into sight.

Kamea's voice was tinged with uncertainty. "Some sort of explosion? It looks recent… do you think it was an accident?"

Donavan's hands grasped the controls in a white-knuckled grip. This image was all-too-similar to that permanently etched into his mind.

Raju cut back in quickly. "No chance. You see those scorch marks on the rubble? That's laser fire. We need to get you out of here Kamea—right now." The com console flickered as Raju switched to another secured band, breaking radio silence. "Get me a situation update, now!"

Only crackling static answered him and he swore, but a second later a voice cut through. "This is patrol seventeen of the Royal Guard. It's good to hear from you, sir. We're stationed on the approach to Cordia. Something is jamming communications—you must be nearby if we can hear you."

"Hold position, we'll come to you." Raju switched back to their private frequency. "Donavan, on me. We'll link up with the Guard, but I don't like this. It's happening too fast and too quietly. And how the hell are we being jammed in our own capital? Regardless, whatever's happening, I won't let it derail the coronation. Kamea, the Reach needs you."

"Thank you, Raju. I will prove myself worthy of the faith you've placed in me."

The two lead the way while Kamea kept fairly close behind them, passing the ruins of the outpost until they saw two 'Mechs wearing Royal Guard colors ahead, a Panther and Nighthawk, which lowered their weapons in greeting. "Hail, Mastiff. Hail, Lady Arano. We were preparing for the coronation parade when we got word of a disturbance along the Cormorant Road."

Kamea spoke, all trace of nervousness gone from her voice. "A guard post behind us was attacked. Sir Raju found evidence of laser fire. Is the road behind you clear?"

"Aye, my Lady, all the way to the Southern Gate. Lead the way, Sir Raju—we'll fall in behind you and guard your six."

Sir Raju's voice was steady, firm. Controlled. "Tell me, guardsman, if the road is clear, why are your 'Mechs damaged?"

Donavan took another look, now noting the scoring along the Panther's leg and a hole in the Shadowhawk's torso armor that looked suspiciously like an auto-cannon round had hit it.

"Our 'Mechs are overdue for maintenance. But that isn't important right now—we need to get Lady Arano to safety. My Lady, if you'll come with us…"

Whatever suspicion Sir Raju had, their effort to take Lady Arano away from him seemed to have sealed it. The Centurion's weapons came up menacingly. "Power down your 'Mechs, both of you, right now."

Kamea broke in. "You're lying to me. No MechTech would send you out in that condition on my—"

The 'Mechs abruptly jerked into action, the Panther breaking left and the Shadowhawk right. Whatever Raju had lost with age, it hadn't affected his reflexes—his weapons fired almost instantly on the larger, slower Shadowhawk. Both racks of Short Range Missiles—6 flushed, flashing through the distance almost instantly over such a short range, smashing through armor and throwing the 'Mech off-balance, though the gyroscope compensated enough to keep it on its feet. The heavy 'karump' of the autocannon bellowed and rammed into the Shadowhawk's right arm, smashing it into a smoking ruin.

As on edge as he was, Donavan was still caught off-guard by the abrupt violence and was slow off the mark. The Panther had gone a half-dozen steps by the time he fired, and he overcompensated the with the medium lasers, which flashed a blinding green that left four long scorch marks in the trees beyond the 'Mech. He was lining up a second shot when the Blackjack shuddered violently. A glance at the damage readout told the story—the Panther's SRM-4's had cratered into his armor.

"Donavan, get it together and chase down that Panther!"

The urgent voice of his instructor snapped him back into gear and he pushed the 'Mech into long, loping strides after the light 'Mech. It dodged back and forth between the trees, obviously intending to carry word of their location, but Raju had been right—the 'Mech was damaged. Something had made a mess of its right leg, limiting its range of motion, and the other leg was dialed back to compensate, allowing Donavan to stay in range.

He peppered it with another round of laser fire, scoring deeply into the Panther's thinner armor. The Panther swiveled for a moment and hurled a volley of SRM's back in response, but the 'Mechs rapid and somewhat unsteady course corrections threw off the targeting computer and they sizzled harmlessly past. He tapped the weapon toggle and pulled the trigger again. The Blackjack almost seemed to lean forward just as the 'Mech fired, compensating for the recoil as the two AC/2's fired with a loud thud. The first round tore through the dirt between the Panther's legs, but the second drilled into the right torso before exploding. The impact, catching the machine in mid-stride, was too much and sent the 'Mech crashing to the ground and inflicting fresh, grievous wounds.

Despite the staggering amount of damage, the 'Mech twitched as it attempted to regain its feed. Donavan reached for the trigger once again when a stream of missiles struck light lightning from the sky, erupting on the Panther in a giant fireball. LRMs, using his targeting data…

"Nice shot Kamea. Donavan, good working running it down. Now get back here."

He turned the Blackjack around and quickly retraced his steps. The Kintaro and Centurion stood back-to-back, guarding all approaches. Between them they'd made short work of the Shadowhawk, despite its heavier armor, though the Centurion sported some pockmarks in its armor from SRMs, and the Kintaro bore a long streak on its side from a laser.

"Kamea, we need to fall back to a secure location, where—"

He broke off as something distant, but massive, exploded. Donavan's com console lit up as it received dozens of signals simultaneously. The highest priority signal overrode the others, though it was still staticky.

"—mea, Kamea, can you hear me?"

"Alexander! We were just attacked! The Royal Guard, my own guardsmen!"

The man sounded grim. "I'm so glad I finally reached you. Some loyal units managed to take out the jamming tower. It's happening everywhere. The Royal Guard are killing each other in the halls. Lord Karosa's House Guard just got gunned down in front of me, and the Tourney Pavilion is a slaughterhouse!

Kamea's shocked voice hardened. "I… I won't let these seditionists, or whoever they are, steal my birthright. We need to rally every loyalist we can and make a push on the capital. I'll take the throne by force if I must!"

"Go to… Rotorua Township, to the armory. Your soldiers are using it as a rallying point. I heard Lord Decimis send his House Guard there a few minutes ago. Wait… someone's here. I have to move. Rally what forces you can and meet me at the Township when you can. Be safe." The voice cut off.  
"You heard him Mastiff—Rotorua Township. We'll go there, rally our fighters, and march on the Southern Gate with an army at our back."

Raju responded urgently, but with an undercurrent of gentleness. "Kamea, I know that you and Lord Madeira are friends, but we can't take what he told you on faith. Right now we don't know who we can trust."

"In this case, we do. Alexander has been my closest friend and confidant for as long as I can remember. His loyalty is beyond question. I trust him with my life… and with yours. Now take me to the armory." She finished authoritatively, giving a command.

"As you command, my Lady." Raju's Centurion moved out briskly, with Donavan and Kamea falling in behind him. Raju led them off the road to Cordia and onto a smaller side path through a set of rocky cliffs.

"Vehicles ahead, a squad of five." Raju's voice was confident and quick, back in the combat groove. "Donavan, hold the pass ahead, stay back but don't let them break through. Kamea, I'll try to get sensor lock, then we'll hit them with LRM's over the cliffs."

Donavan acknowledged and eased the Blackjack forward, settling into a lower profile masked by trees. They wouldn't hide him from sensors, of course, but they'd make it a touch more difficult to spot him and soak up some direct fire weapons. Behind him Raju launched a handful of small drones that buzzed out overhead, feeding targeting data back to the lance. It looked like… three Scorpions with AC/5s and two Strikers armed with both SRMs and LRMs. The heavy tanks looked like they had seen better days. _Stolen from mothballs?_ However they'd ended up here, there was nothing wrong with their courage. They were driving out aggressively to try to bottle them up in the pass. A fine strategy, under other circumstances, but against BattleMechs?

"Kamea, Striker one, I have Striker two."

The narrow passage lit up as twenty missiles ignited and soared upwards, arching through the sky for a moment before raining down to devastating effect. The two Strikers evaporated in the rapid-fire explosions, and the remaining tanks floored it, though whether out of determination to fulfill their mission or desperation to get inside the LRM minimum range he couldn't say.

"Reloaded. Kamea take the leader, I've got the trailer."

Again the cliff pass illuminated, and again two more tanks vanished, but the last Scorpion was rounding the bend. Donavan lined up the shot, warned by the sensor lock. The moment the tank edged past the rock wall he hit it with an alpha strike, sending everything he had. The lasers cut deep furrows into the armor, leaving blackened, ruined metal in their wake. The two autocannon rounds punched clean through the ruined armor and detonated the tank's ammunition, gutting it into a fiery wreck.

"Nicely done, Donavan," commented Lady Arano. "Let's keep moving."

"Fighting Royal Guard units," muttered Raju, "damn them for making me do this."

They moved forward briskly, one eye on their sensors, as their destination came into views. The Rotorua Township was smoking from a number of fires from recent fighting, but its main dome seemed to be intact, and _someone_ was running around down there.

The com flickered back to life and Alexander Madeira returned. Where before he'd sounded shaken, now panic laced his words. "Kamea, do you read me? It's Espinosa, your uncle! Can you hear me? House Espinosa is usurping the throne!"

"It… it can't be. Uncle Santiago… _Victoria!_"

"Kamea, I just watched an Espinosa BattleMech plow through an alley full of civilians to fire on evacuating troops. This is happening, and it's happening now! The loyalists have fallen back from Rotorua to the Market Districts—that's where they're making their stand. What's left of the Royal Guard are doing their best, but there's something wrong with their BattleMechs. Wait, what's that sound? Oh shi—"

The feed cut and even through the dampening of his BattleMech, Donavan could hear the unmistakable shriek of incoming artillery fire, far heavier than any LRM salvo. The ground shook and the Blackjack's gyro and Motion Control Unit compensated to keep the 'Mech on its feed, while deeper in the City proper a firestorm erupted hundreds of feet into the air. _On a populated city…_

"Alexander? Alexander!"

Another voice cut through the bedlam, cold and hard. "It's over Kamea. Your ascendancy, the Arano legacy… all of it."

Kamea responded with barely restrained fury. "Victoria… what have you done?"

"You know Kamea, for years I loved you like a sister. Then my father helped me see it—your family's complacency, and what it's done to the Reach. Our nation dwindles, like a dying star, and House Arano is to blame. My father offered you a path to glory, but time and time again you rejected him. I would have fought under your banner proudly… served as your strong right hand. It was like a knife in my heart when you turned him away."

Raju cut in, his voice somber. "I taught you better than this, Victoria."

"You taught me _lies!_ Kamea, for the love that I once bore you, I'm going to give you one chance to surrender. I'll even spare Raju and your new pet mercenary, but only if you stand down, _now. _I don't want to see you hurt, but you can't be allowed to rule."

"I'll see you _hanged_ for this Victoria, you and your father both," hissed Kamea. "You hear me? You are traitors to the Reach and I will fight you to the last!"

Victoria's voice grew blank, expressionless. "Then you truly are a fool. I'll spare you, in spite of yourself, but you've cost your royal escort their lives."

The line cut and another transmission came through as Victoria continued speaking. "Attention all Directorate forces, this is Lady Victoria. Lady Arano is to be apprehended and taken alive. She is near Rotorua Township. All available units, engage."

Donavan snarled. Including them in the transmission just to mock them!

"Kamea, we need to mo—"

Raju was interrupted as two 'Mechs crashed into view on their jumpjets, a medium Cicada and a light Spider, with a smaller Locust sprinting up close behind them. "Take the Cicada," rasped Raju, jamming the Centurion into gear. Donavan and Kamea followed suit, and all three opened up on the Cicada as it recovered from its jump. Their weapons slammed into the already damaged 'Mech, tearing off its left arm and detonating its left leg, which sent the 'Mech crashing to the ground, neutralized.

Raju's tactic had removed the greatest threat, but at the cost of leaving themselves exposed to return fire from the two light 'Mechs, and Donavan grunted as a handful of SRMs crashed home, breaking off some of his armor. Raju got scored by a couple of laser shots, and the lights were up and moving now, no longer easy targets.

Still, at such close range it was hard to miss, and lasers and missile fire ripped back and forth between them in a raw bludgeoning match. The advantage in sheer weight of metal made the outcome inevitable, especially after the Cicada went down, but they didn't go down easy. The Blackjack took another handful of SRMs, leaving blackened holes across its armor that exposed the structure beneath, and a laser shot broke through and half-melted one of his medium lasers, putting it out of action.

Raju was in similar shape. The Spider's pilot must have known he wasn't going to survive, so he'd gone all-out on Sir Raju's leg, trying to cripple him. He hadn't managed it, not quite, but the Centurion was still moving with a noticeable limp, and Donavan certainly wouldn't want to risk any jumpjets on a leg that unsteady.

"Kamea, Donavan, we need to move. If they're calling in other units, that means they have the city more or less secured, and we'll be overwhelmed. We have to get you off this planet, and we need to do it now."

Donavan nodded grimly in his cockpit. A violent coup like this wasn't something you tried unless you were pretty confident you were going to pull it off, and the way that Lady Victoria was acting seemed to indicate it was time to fall back.

"I… I can't abandon Coromodir. This is my home, my birthright."

"The battle's over, Kamea. Escape from this madness and live to restore the Coalition another day."

She hesitated another second, then… "You're right. My uncle has won. The Reach is his."

"Ka… Kamea… are you still there?"

"Alexander! I thought I lost you."

Lord Madeira let out a pained chuckle. "You very nearly did. My… my Lady, that shelling destroyed what's left of the resistance. I'm head to a DropShip waiting at Shepherd's Pass. Meet me there, if you can."

Raju got them moving immediately.

"You get to that ship Alexander, I mean it. I will not lose you and my throne on the same day!"

There was no response from Alexander as they ran, but a new broadcast came through totally in the clear. "Attention citizens of Coromodir VI, this is Lord Santiago Espinosa. With the unanimous support of the Founding Houses, I have assumed control of the Aurigan Coalition. For your own protection, I urge you to remain calm and remain indoors until otherwise instructed. All hostile units, stand down and you will not be harmed. Resist, and you will be fired upon."

Lady Arano was starting to come apart, overwhelmed by the enormity of the betrayal and the brutal, knife fight range battle. "My father placed his trust in that man. I … I gave him my trust. He was family!"

"Easy, Kamea. Stay focused on getting to the DropShip, and we'll worry about the rest later."

Kamea didn't respond, and Raju didn't push it.

For his part, however important Kamea was, Donavan wished it was Raju in the heavy 'Mech, not her.

Another small squad of tanks appeared on sensors, whether trying to catch them or just in the way by happenstance they couldn't tell and ultimately didn't matter. The lance kept their 'Mechs moving forward, crashing down on them aggressively. They took another few hits at such a short range, but they smashed the under-armored older tanks quickly. They were moving so fast Raju actually crushed the last Scorpion under his Centurion's foot as they bulldozed their way through the woods.

At last they were coming into sight of Shepherd's Pass when the com lit up with another incoming signal. "This is your last chance, cousin. Please, don't make me order your death."

"Do whatever you must, betrayer."

Victoria sighed. "A headstrong fool to the end. Damn you for this. Captain Haust, destroy them. Mastiff, my cousin… all of them. Leave no survivors."

The scanners lit up as they came into range of the Pass. Several serious bunker emplacements were entrenched into the cliff faces, backed up by two light laser turrets up at the top of the cliffs with good fields of fire on the approach. Blocking the path up the Pass itself was another medium 'Mech, a sturdy Wolverine. Sensors picked up three active weapon systems, an SRM 6, an AC/5, and a medium laser.

Donavan bit his lip, considering. The Wolverine had pockmarks across its armor, but at this point so did they. It didn't have much in terms of long-range weapons, but they couldn't really afford the time it would take to hang back and blast away at him. But if they got in close, those weapons were going to hurt, and the Wolverine was sturdy enough to hang in for a while dishing out damage, even against three 'Mechs. And add in those laser turrets…

Raju's voice was grim but determined. "Close in. I'll take the middle and engage the Wolverine. Kamea go left and take the turret, Donavan take the other on the right. Once they're down, surround the Wolverine and blow out his weaker rear armor."

Donavan acknowledged and tried to keep his hands from shaking on the controls. The Blackjack was hurting, he was missing a laser and down to twelve rounds for the autocannons. _Don't be an idiot. The turrets are made out of paper, and we out-ton the Wolverine three to one. Yes, we might get hurt, but we've got this._

"Go." The lance advanced quickly, using the tree line as cover. Lasers and autocannon rounds flashed from the Blackjack, smashing into the turret which detonated in a fireball, but not before it got off its own shots, and the Blackjack shook under the impact.

"Warning: left torso armor low. Damage to left arm detected."

He looked back to the HUD quickly. Kamea had dealt with her own turret and was turning onto the Wolverine. The Centurion and Wolverine were locked in close-range combat, with SRMs and autocannon rounds ripping back and forth. Donavan launched into motion, rapid-firing his last AC/2 rounds, but holding off on the lasers as the heat warning buzzed.

Kamea got in behind the Wolverine and sent a full barrage of three SRM 5s into the thinner rear armor. Something detonated internally, probably the AC/5 ammo, and the combined force sent the 'Mech toppling forward. Raju unloaded a full blast of his AC/10 into the torso, which detonated the fusion engine inside, coring it.

"Good… good work, team," hissed Raju through clenched teeth. "Keep moving. The DropSh… the DropShip should be just up the pass."

"Raju, you're hurt!"

Lord Madeira jumped back on the com. "Thank the stars you made it Kamea! Captain Halverson's prepping the engines now—in another five minutes we'll be ready to depart."

"Five… five minutes is a long time. Donavan, the Wolverine wrecked my left leg. I'll… I'll move to cover the Pass. Escort Lady Arano to the docking ramp, then come back to me. We'll… we'll hold the Pass until she's away." The Centurion was already slowly limping to take up the Wolverine's former blocking position.

Donavan swallowed hard, his heart in his throat. He should have been mad. Sir Raju had just committed him to a last stand. On the other hand, Sir Raju was the closest thing to family he had left, and with the Coalition going down in flames around them, he had nowhere else to go. "Of course, Sir Raju. I'll stand with you to the end."

"Thank you, Sir Raju. Thank you both. I won't forget what you've done for me today—I promise you that." Lady Arano moved on up the Pass, Donavan tucked in tight, and rounded the bend to step into the shadow of the massive, spheroid DropShip. Lady Arano moved up the ramp and Donavan returned, already seeing incoming sensor blips.

Victoria's voice returned, probably because she'd forgotten to remove them from the tactical com net after all her gloating. "All units, advance! Take down that DropShip—destroy _everyone _and _everything_ that stands in your way."

Raju coughed thickly. "All right, Donavan. I trained you for this. We'll fight side by side, watching each other's back. Above all else, we… we _will_ keep Lady Arano safe. Protect… the DropShip. That's all that matters."

Six 'Mechs, no, eight 'Mechs appeared on scanners closing in fast, two of them heavies. Then a new signal was coming in, but it was strange, almost like—

The heat levels exploded well past critical levels. "Warning: engine heat critical. Warning: shutdown initiated. Warning: reactor offline. Warning: Weapons offline. Systems inoperable."

Victoria laughed. "Trouble with your decrepit Blackjack, mystery 'Mechwarrior? Shame. That's been happening to a lot of Royal Guard BattleMechs lately."

The Mastiff snarled. "Your betrayal gives you surprise and numbers, and you resort to sabotage, and then you have the gall to _gloat?_ You have no honor you traitorous little brat—not you, not your backstabbing father."

"Shut your mouth, old man," she spat back. "My father is a great man, and I swear you will _suffer_ if you insult him again."

Donavan was only half-listening as he fought to fix whatever they'd done to the Blackjack, but wasn't making any progress.

"Your father is a coward, and so are you. Donavan, eject. Punch out now. You're no good to anybody in a broken 'Mech, and I won't let you die today. Eject 'Mechwarrior, now! That's an order!"

"All units, close and—" Victoria's voice broke off as Raju launched into action, even as Donavan yanked the eject lever. Explosive bolts fired, shattering the Blackjack's head and sending shards of hardened glass and titanium-alloyed steel tearing through the air while he desperately clutched the command chair's arms, flattened downward under the incredible pressure as the ejector seat launched him clear of the crippled 'Mech.

After an endless moment the pressure eased, and he could look around once more. Startlingly close beside him, to his shock, he saw the battered and mangled Centurion reaching the zenith of a massive jump-jet leap, with half its left leg torn off under the strain.

Raju fired everything. LRMs rattling clear, lasers firing, and massive AC/10 burning through the last of his ammo. The avalanche of fire crashed down on one of the two Catapult heavies, which staggered while its ablative armor melted away.

Steam sizzled off the superheated metal of the ruinously overheated 'Mech, which was still firing its jumpjets, maneuvering in mid-air. With that leg, what was he… Donavan gasped as he saw it. Raju sailed past the Catapult he'd damaged and hurtled himself downwards, fully committed to a death ride intercept course with the other.

He was trying to take out the heaviest long-range weaponry that could threaten the DropShip in a single, final attack.

The customized Catapult ran, but its heavier weight and lack of jumpjets hampered it. Dozens of LRMs and lasers flashed skyward, at least eight connecting and blowing off chunks of the disintegrating 'Mech, but the rear-mounted jumpjets kept up the course corrections and Raju held on with iron resolve.

The Centurion bearing the red standard of House Arano defiantly smashed into the Catapult under the green House Espinosa colors with an almighty shriek of twisting metal, the impact powerful enough to emit its own shockwave, blowing Donavan further away from the field and cracking his head back against the head-rest, and the darkness closed in.


	4. Mercenary

**Chapter 3: Mercenary**

**April 6****th****, 3022**

**En-route to local Jump Point, Coromodiry System, Aurigan Coalition**

Donavan groaned as he became conscious of the pain throughout his body. _Ugh._ He was… he was lying down in a small, cramped bunk he didn't recognize. A man sat next to him on the edge of the bunk, a 'Mech jockey jacket draped casually over a dark shirt.

"Easy there, you took a nasty crack on the head when you punched out. Don't worry; you're safe now."

Donavan put a hand on his aching head. "I… what… what happened? Who are you?"

"My name is Darius Oliveira, and I'm the executive officer of Markham's Marauders. We're a mercenary outfit with ties to House Arano. We did some work of High Lord Tamati way back when. I'd introduce you to Commander Markham but, well, he was on a supply run in the Market District when the bombs fell. He… he didn't make it."

Donavan pulled himself at least semi-upright, his head starting to feel better. He looked down at a tug on his arm and noticed an IV, no doubt feeding him pain killers. Still, his head felt a little clearer now, and he tried to pull himself together.

"You rescued me… why?"

Darius shrugged. "Seemed appropriate, given the circumstances. With all the security measures for the coronation, our 'Mechs weren't close enough to get into the fight, and seeing what happened to Markham, we wanted to help however we could. Still, it was all we could do to keep you from falling into the hands of this new 'Directorate.' When we picked up the emergency signal from your ejector seat, we knew what we had to do."

The memory of that last fight abruptly crashed home. "What about Mastiff, Sir Raju Montgomery—did you find him?"

Darius sighed. "We found what was left of his 'Mech. It was completely cored out… for what it's worth, I'm sorry. We supported his Royal Guard on a handful of deployments, and Sir Raju earned my respect many times over. His death is a loss for us as well."

Damn. It wasn't unexpected, not in a situation like that, but to hear it, to have to accept it… "Were you able to recover my Blackjack?"

"Yeah, there's at least a little good news I can give you. Our 'Mech Tech, Yang, hauled what's left of it into the 'Mech Bay of our Leopard. It isn't pretty, but if you give him enough time Yang can fix almost anything. Oh, he also said that your 'Mech shows signs of deliberate sabotage. Whoever you had working on it really did a number on the reactor. Punching out was the right move."

Donavan nodded slowly. At least the Blackjack was recoverable. Without a 'Mech… he had no idea what he would do. "Okay, so what happens now?" From what you said, it sounds like we're on a Leopard?"

"Well, things aren't looking so good around here, what with the coup and all. House Espinosa's Directorate is the new de facto government of the Aurigan Reach." He hesitated a moment. "I'm … sorry to have to tell you this, but Lady Arano is dead. Her DropShip was destroyed on takeoff. It's been all over the news."

"Well… shit."

"Our sentiments exactly. Like you guessed, we're getting the hell out of the Aurigan territory—I've already booked transport on the first JumpShip out of the system. We're headed to a nice quiet stretch of independent space all the way on the other side of the Frontier on the Magistracy of Canopus border. Not a cheap trip, but we'll worry about how we're going to pay for it later."

Darius smiled as Donavan waited. "Aaaand that brings us to you. You've got options, which is something. According to your blood chit you're from out that way. Got any family?"

"No, they're dead. And the Magistracy and I have a … history."

The mercenary shrugged. "In that case, you could stay with us for the trip. When we get where we're going, we can drop you at the nearest planet. Maybe you can make a fresh start there… of course, I'll need you to pitch in your fair share of the fuel, plus food, lodging, and repairs on your 'Mech. Fair's fair, after all."

Donavan winced. "And if I didn't have that sort of money on hand, I'm assuming you'd be willing to consider an alternative arrangement?"

Darius leaned back. "I thought it might be like that. So yeah, here's what I'm offering. You can stick with us, joining Markham's Marauders. I'll drop the interest on your debt to us out of respect to Mastiff, who always did right by us. If he wanted you around then you must have the chops, so I expect you to pay off that debt quickly, and if things go well you can stay with us for the long haul. Think it over, sleep on it. You've had a hell of a last couple days, and those pain killers are helping, but you're a long way from recovered and we've got a long road ahead."

He clapped Donavan on the shoulder and climbed to his feet.

Donavan eased himself back down on the bunk. However Darius wanted to put it, there wasn't really an option. Still… if they'd really wanted to, they could just space him and take the Blackjack, so an offer to let him sign on showed both generosity and maybe a touch of desperation. But the man was certainly right about one thing—assuming he didn't get himself killed, they had a long road ahead of them.

**April 6****th****, 3025**

**Ur Cruinne System, Frontier**

Three years. It was hard to believe it had been three years since he'd joined Markham's Marauders. In some ways, everything had changed; the political map of the Inner Sphere had been completely redrawn. The Third Succession War had finally come to an end with the tectonic shift in power as the Lyran Commonwealth and the Federated Suns actually formed an alliance, with rumors swirling over exactly what was in the redacted portions of their agreement. The other Great Houses were scrambling to form some sort of response.

But in other ways, nothing had changed at all. The Inner Sphere was completely absorbed in its own problems, only messing with the Periphery when they were irritating enough to get their attention for a moment. And he was still in the backend of beyond and down on his luck.

Yup, in Donavan's considered opinion, the planet Ur Cruinne was the armpit of the system, which was saying something as the system was named after it. Most of the planet was a frozen wasteland so in hospitable and empty it had never been settled. The planets single feature, if you could call it that, were geothermal vents that created small temperate zones where small groups of hardy and at least moderately crazy inhabitants mined the planets handful of minerals.

Some group of jumped-up miners were claiming another's spot, and the locals had come up with enough C-Bills to hire the Marauders. Man, Darius was really scraping the bottom of the barrel here. Still… it was hard to blame the guy. From what he gathered the Marauders had already been in rebuilding mode before they'd had to flee the system. House Arano had hired them to support the Arano Royal Guard in a campaign of Fjaldr to take out a pirate clan. It had been a calculated move as Fjaldr was right on the border with the Capellan Federation, so the idea was to show the Capellans that messing with the Aurigans was more trouble than it was worth. That meant that smashing the pirates was more about the accomplishing the objective than true cost-effectiveness, and it had gotten ugly. They'd descended from the ice-encrusted surface down into kilometer-wide mining shafts in pursuit of the pirates. Away from the cold surface, the pirates had favored heavy flamers. It didn't take long to discover that even 'Mech armor could turn brittle if you transitioned from ice-cold to boiling hot temperatures fast enough, and the pirates weren't big on holding back. If they locked down a 'Mech by overheating the engine they just kept right on flaming, and most of the dead had had to be hosed out of their cockpits.

They'd been well-paid for it, but they'd lost over a dozen pilots, and it would have been worse had Sir Raju not gone out of his way to bail them out on more than one occasion. Then, when they should have been hiring new pilots with all the hard-earned C-Bills, they'd had to burn it all to get out of the system in a hurry in the wake of the coup. They'd only managed to pick up one pilot, Mohammed Benitez, callsign Medusa, who piloted a Locust light 'Mech that was currently down for repairs. Startlingly, he and Donavan were now the most senior pilots left after three years of attrition, retirement, and turnover.

He mulled it over for the umpteenth time and looked out through the cockpit of the Blackjack and across the cramped 'Mech Bay at the Vindicator across the way. The 'Mechs were so closely packed in the cramped Leopard DropShip he could make out Glitch behind the controls, or Jessica Chernovksaya on formal occasions. He had to chuckle darkly at her callsign; if anyone represented the tough breaks Markham's Marauders had been on the receiving end of, it was Glitch. She'd been a perfectly happy, perfectly average middle-class girl in the heartland of the Federated Suns until a garbled bio-scan put her in a max-security prison for a decade. Her name was eventually cleared, but there was no getting back the person she'd been, and getting out at thirty-three with no university degree and only the skills she'd picked up inside, well, suffice it to say her path to becoming a MechWarrior wasn't entirely legal. And she was the nicest person on the ship.

Donavan sighed and leaned back in the command chair as the ready light shifted to yellow, signaling the start of their final approach. He couldn't distract himself from his thoughts any longer—he was coming to the conclusion that Darius just wasn't cut out to be a mercenary commander. He was a great XO but, well, ever since Markham had died on Coromodir he hadn't had much self-confidence, constantly doubting himself. The problem was, who did that leave but him? He and Medusa were the most senior pilots, but Medusa wasn't a noble. That didn't make much of a difference inside the cockpit, but it could matter outside of it. In some places, it mattered a great deal. He didn't really want the job, not with the shape the company was in now, but if someone didn't do something, the whole thing might fold.

He put the oft-repeated thoughts on hold as the ready lights started blinking yellow. Thirty seconds out. With a wheeze the Leopard eased down onto its landing struts and Donavan set the 'Mech into motion.

Amir Kowalski, also known as Dekker (though he'd never explained where the callsign had come from) was first out in his light SDR-SV Spider, scouting out the immediate area while the others piled out behind him, doing their best not to run into each other in the cramped confines. Leopards were really meant to live as 'Mech Carriers, not completely unsupported mobile bases.

Next out was Miranda Aguilera, aka Behemoth, and she'd never needed to explain where the name came from. She was tall and built like a battle tank, with the attitude to match. All Donavan knew for sure about her was that she'd started out in the Lyran Commonwealth and that she was solid in her SHD-2H Shadowhawk. And with the heaviest 'Mech still with Marauders, nobody was asking too many questions. Still, with no noble ties he could find, Donavan rather suspected she'd acquired the Shadowhawk through extra-legal means.

Glitch was next in the Vindicator and Donavan brought up the rear in the Blackjack. Between them they had three medium 'Mechs, one light 'Mech, one spare pilot, one spare Locust, and just enough weapons to keep the 'Mechs armed. Anyone taking a look from the outside would see a mercenary company either on its way up with the mediums, or on its way out, lacking anything else.

Sumire Meyer, longtime pilot and navigator, got the Leopard out of there briskly, kicking up a small mountain of dust in the bone dry, painfully brown surroundings. They stood just outside the small base of the… right, the Independent Prospectors League, which consisted of a handful of prefabricated buildings, a command center, and attached landing pad. Apparently Sumire hadn't trusted it enough to make use of it. Rounding out the base were four light turrets, one at each corner.

_How much are we getting paid for this?_

The com board lit up with an incoming message from the base. "The IPL thanks you for your assistance, mercenaries. We're miners, not soldiers—we can't fight these claim-jumpers on our own."

Darius responded from the Leopard. "That's what you're paying us for. Don't worry, we'll get your platforms back."

"This isn't just about reclaiming what's ours. Majesty Metals killed hundreds of us when they tried to jump our claim. We want you to make them bleed for what they've done here."

The miner dropped off the channel and Darius continued addressing the team. "Alright people, as we talked about in the briefing, the op-for is holding two of the IPL's mining platforms. Target Alpha is where they're keeping their turret generator. Move in fast and take it out—those turrets hit hard, so you'll want to neutralize them ASAP. Target Bravo is the op-for's corporate security tower. With the turrets down, engage and destroy it, taking out any last defenses. Then circle back and we'll collect our pay."

Donavan repressed a sign and spoke up. "Alright lance, let's move. Dekker, move up the road and let us know when you make contact. The rest of us will follow up the road, but stay loose. Looks like there's a lot of rock outcrops that could make good ambush spots."

"Affirmative, Wolf" replied Dekker coolly as he moved off.

Donavan snorted. When he'd first joined, he hadn't been used to working in a team, as he'd been the lone Battlemech on his home planet. He'd had a distinct tendency to go it alone, and he'd immediately been labelled the 'lone wolf' until the team had knocked some sense into him. Unfortunately, the name had stuck, though it was usually just Wolf now.

The rest of the lance moved out in Dekker's wake, 'Mech feet kicking up dust with every step. After about ten minutes Dekker's voice came back. "Contact. Two light 'Mechs on the road at a little cul-de-sac, two light turrets overlooking them, though they're right on top of their power generator. They're behind a turn in the road, though, so no line-of-sight until we're right on top of them if they hold position."

"Copy." Donavan though it through quietly, taking in the sensor data from the Spider. Light turrets weren't all that much more armored than a light tank, just enough to survive a stray shot or two, but they tended to pack fairly heavy firepower, relying more on getting a strong alpha strike or two off before they got wrecked than armoring them up enough to hope for consistent damage. Still, that was their philosophy when dealing with _medium_ 'Mechs. They could chew through Dekker's spider quickly. And combine that with two light 'Mechs, and that was some respectable firepower.

"Dekker, swing out across the pass to draw their fire and get firing solutions on the turret generator. Behemoth, hit it with the LRM's. Glitch, once you have lock, hit the jumpjets and get on top of the ridge. That should give you a clear LOS to hit the generator with your LRM's and the PPC. Once the generator is down, I'll swing out with Behemoth to engage the lights. Glitch and Dekker, once they've engaged us, get behind them if you get the chance and burn them down. Confirm."

The others quickly acknowledged. "Dekker, hit it."

The Spider launched itself forward, Pitban 240 engine roaring as the thirty ton 'Mech raced out at almost 130 kph.

A pre-recorded message started transmitting in the clear, which Donavan mostly ignored, concentrating instead on the sensor data from the Spider.

::You are trespassing on Majesty Metals and Manufacturing property, and acting in collusion with a domestic terrorist organization. Cease your advance immediately or you will be fired upon.::

Okay, two light sniper turrets, each housing four AC/2d's. Those would punch through their armor with worrying ease. As for the lights, they were two Wasps, which were good news—they were meant more as training units than combat units, though the messy state of the galaxy meant you saw a surprising number of them in combat.

"Glitch, Behemoth, hit it." LRM's launched skyward, followed almost immediately by Glitch's Vindicator on its jumpjets. She settled down on the ridgeline, in range of both turrets, and opened up with her PPC in a huge flash of light. The turrets snapped back from tracking Dekker to aim up at the new threat, but the particle projector cannon did good work—the mammoth energy ball blew through the generator system, already mangled by the LRM's, and fried it.

That was his cue.

Wolf stepped out around the ridge and opened up on the nearest Wasp with everything he had. Two of his four lasers cut into the light 'Mech's armor, and both AC/2d's landed, punching through to start damaging structure on its left side.

The corporate 'Mechs didn't show good fire discipline, with the more distant Wasp shooting up at Glitch on the ridgeline, scoring a grazing hit, and the closer aiming at Wolf. Still, that was enough pain to be getting on with, and he grunted as he was thrown back bodily against his restraints as the Wasp's SRMs hit dangerous close to the cockpit. His armor held, but a chunk of ablative material shredded and dropped off the Blackjack leaving him feeling exposed.

He kept the Blackjack moving, sliding left along the road to let Behemoth's Shadowhawk come out alongside him. They both opened up on the Wasp, with Wolf keeping an eye on his heat readings. The four medium lasers gave him punch, but they were heating things up considerably. Behemoth's AC/5 tore into the light 'Mech, which staggered as a secondary explosion rocked it. The SRM ammo?

Whatever it was, they took advantage of the hesitation and poured fire into the torso until something broke through to the fusion engine, which detonated, putting the Wasp down for good. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and looked at the sensor board. Glitch and Dekker had cored the other Wasp, Dekker blowing through the negligible rear armor on the light 'Mech that had tried desperately to knock out Glitch's powerful PPC. It looked like the PPC was still working, though the arm had some significant scarring from the Wasp's laser.

"Nice job lance. Form up, we're heading to Objective B; back down the road hang a right down the hill. They might be able to scramble something before we get there, so Dekker move out and get me eyes."

"Copy."

The team eased into cruising speed and Wolf quickly took stock of their damage. The Blackjack's armor was a little torn up but hanging in there. The Vindicator's arm was damaged, but otherwise intact. The Shadowhawk had taken a couple of SRM's, but was fine, and the Spider was completely untouched. Not bad.

"Wolf, Dekker. I've got contact. Two light tanks and a 'Mech, reading about fifty tons."

Donavan swore. He had no doubt they could take a lone medium 'Mech, but the odds of doing it without getting at least somewhat had just dropped a lot, and they weren't exactly swimming in cash at the moment. _Okay, think. _The corp-sec tower was in a low basin with yet another ridge running along the right side while the road lead down towards the tower itself.

"Here's the plan. Behemoth, you take the road and engage the Shadowhawk. Keep your distance from those scorpion tanks and their AC/5s. Glitch, you and I are ridgeline, try and take out the Shadowhawk's AC/5. Dekker, swing around the left and jump down into the basin; see if you can find some tanks to step on."

Behemoth was already in position at the top of the road, raining down fire on then enemy Shadowhawk. Wolf followed glitch along the ridgeline, angling his torso to catch sight of the 'Mech awkwardly caught halfway up the road. He could actually see the pilot hesitating, unwilling to charge through crossfire into three opposing 'Mechs, but also unwilling to turn his back and expose the thinner rear armor. And in the sweltering heat of this miserable hotspot, firing the jumpjets would limit his ability to shoot. After a moment he settled on backing down the road, firing as he went, but that hesitation cost him badly.

Wolf and Glitch got into position before he got off the road, and they unloaded into the 'Mech's left side. The 'Mech staggered under the fire, and they were rewarded with the sigh to the AC/5's barrel shearing off from a lucky laser hit. Wolf breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of that 80mm beast gone—it was far from the most powerful weapon out there, but it was enough to ruin any medium 'Mech's day.

With its main weapon knocked out, the Shadowhawk lost its nerve and turned to run, firing off its jumpjets. Wolf squeezed off a round each from his AC/2d's, one of which crunched into the 'Mech's leg, while the other careened off armor plating. Behemoth had a spot of luck though, as her LRM's caught the 'Mech in the back midflight. One of the missiles detonated on the left torso's jumpjet, shorting it out and unbalancing the powerful machine, turning it into a 55-ton flying brick as the pilot wasn't able to compensate in time. The Shadowhawk hit the ground with such force it ruptured the fusion engine, which detonated on impact in a massive fireball.

"Nice shot Behemoth. Dekker, how's it going?"

"Both tanks down, lead. They got a lucky hit in, though, and the autocannon out my left arm."

Wolf winced. That was going to cost them. "Alright lance, no other hostiles on sensors. Behemoth, you popped the Shadowhawk, you get to do the honors. That tall building there matches the profile of the corp-sec tower. Knock it down and let's head back."

Behemoth didn't waste ammunition, instead electing to hose down the tower with laser fire. After a few good hits the building lost integrity and collapsed in on itself. The lance formed up once again, easing back into cruising speed to let their heat levels settle as they returned down the dusty road. The com lit up again.

"Brilliant work, mercenaries. We should have no trouble mopping up at the other platforms now that their defenses are down."

"We got the job done," answered Darius from the Leopard far above. "Speaking of which—"

"I wasn't finished. These platforms won't do us much good if we can't hold them—Majesty Metals taught us that. So we're going to need your Battlemechs."

Wolf thudded his head back against the headrest. Those _morons_. Even if they had the faintest idea of how to pilot a Battlemech, which he sincerely doubted, there was nowhere in this Podunk outpost to service and repair a 'Mech! Even if they _had_ 'Mechs, they'd be wrecks within months! And that wasn't even mentioning what the Mercenary Board would do to them when it found out they'd backstabbed someone on a Board-hosted job!

Darius sighed. "You clearly haven't thought this through, so I'm going to give you one chance to reconsider that."

Wolf flipped back to the lance tactical net and scanned the base. No signs of hostile units aside from the turrets. He tapped the controls, sending targeting updates on the generator to the lance. If this went sideways, he wanted that thing dead immediately.

"Why? Your lance has already been target-locked by our turrets. Now, power down and surrender, and we'll let you—"

"Fire."

A flurry of autocannon and lasers cratered the turret generator, leaving the turrets as no better than expensive paperweights.

"Lead, vehicles incoming, all light-weight and spread out."

Wolf trusted in the Spider's more advanced sensor systems. "Spread out and engage, don't let them support each other." The lance each moved out separately towards the nearest vehicle signature, weapons roaring, and Wolf shook his head in disgust even as his AC/2 rounds tore through a light scorpion. Going one-on-one against a medium 'Mech in anything short of a heavy vehicle was tantamount to suicide. The whole point of using combat vehicles was to mount 'Mech-rated weapons on as many chassis as possible at the same price. But this…

Two more explosions threw up clouds of dust under the glaring sun, and there were no more hostile sensor readings. It seemed their genius employer had been in one of the light tanks, because he sure wasn't talking anymore.

"Lance, this is Sumire, stand by for extraction—let's get the hell out of here. Oh, and Darius?"

"I know, I know. You want another team meeting."

The pilot chuckled darkly. "Give the man a prize."

The lance gathered as the Leopard gracefully descended from the sky, another testament to Sumire's talents, while Darius opened a private com channel to him. "Nice job down there—you made the best of a bad situation. Here's hoping we don't run into another job like that one."

…

Several hours later and the team meeting was in full swing, meaning they'd already talked in circles at least three times. Donavan, there representing the Mechwarriors, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, wishing he were somewhere else. The Leopard was a fine dropship, in service for so long that every last flaw had been ironed out or otherwise compensated for, but it was never intended for long-term deployments. Storage space was extremely limited, and personal space virtually non-existent. Take, for example, the briefing room that doubled as a lounge, then tripled as the mess, where they were currently butting heads yet again.

"Darius," spoke Sumire in a tone that didn't quite manage to conceal her exasperation, "you _need_ to start finding us better clients. We've been slumming it on the ass-end of the Frontier for _three years_ now, and we are drowning in debt."

_Next, Darius gets defensive and says he's doing the best he can…_

"Hey, I'm doing the best I… ah hell."

Donavan opened his eyes. This was different.

Darius looked around the tiny, cramped space at each of them in turn. "I just saw Donavan mouthing my excuses right along with me. I just…" He covered his face in his hands, blocking out the sight to focus on getting the words right. "This isn't working. I don't think I'm doing anything wrong, exactly, but it's pretty obvious I'm not doing enough right to get us back on track." He took a deep, steadying breath, then dropped his hands and looked up again. "I've been thinking about this for a while now. I've tried to carry things on in respect for Commander Markham, but this outfit has always been lead by the senior pilot, and it's time for a fresh start. E…ahem. Effective immediately, I'm stepping down as Commander of Markham's Marauders and turning command over to you, _Commander_ Donavan.

Donavan stared at Darius for a long moment, then at each of the others. Yang Virtanen, the chief 'MechTech in his orange jumpsuit, gave him a reassuring smile. Sumire Meyer gave him an appraising look, then nodded.

Inside he was a mess of feelings. The idea of leading a mercenary outfit after fighting for only three years was ludicrous, on the face of it. On the other hand, he'd been leading the lance for a while now without too much trouble, and he'd been watching Darius struggle as Commander for just as long. The choice was pretty simple though—either take the reins and try to save this thing, or let it come apart and go it completely alone. And that choice made itself, which meant he had no choice at all.

"Alright, I'll do it." Everyone just kept looking at him, so he leaned forward, an unexpected thrill of excitement shooting through him, tempered by the knowledge that it could all go under almost immediately. "What we need is a fresh start, looking at every issue from new angles. Give me a day or two and we'll have a new name and colors. So, let's talk. Darius, give me the quick and dirty version of our finances again."

"You got it, Commander." Give it a few more repetitions and it might even start sounding natural. "Sumire's right, we're deep in the hole. Every C-bill we make technically belongs to the bank. The problem on my end is that this corner of the frontier is a dead zone for mercenary work. There are clients, but they're terrible."

"Okay, let's talk figures. Give me the total numbers and the monthly interest rate."

"Well, the Leopard was roughly 170 million, now paid down to 164, give or take, and you add in fuel, medical supplies, ammunition, and—"

"I get it, we're not getting out soon. So, what's the magic number to hit to start inching towards daylight?"

Darius hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "Maintenance costs, fuel, supplies, ammunition, and the minimum loan payments will be… say one hundred thousand c-bills a month to stay alive but still sinking, a hundred and fifty thousand a month to tread water, and two hundred to make progress. Very, very slow progress, but progress. The thing is, these banks, and I use that term loosely, they don't want us to pay off the loans. They'll do whatever they can get away with to keep us on the hook—hit us with penalties, jack up the interest rates, 'misfile' our paperwork. It's a mess."

Sumire interjected dolefully. "And every day that passes, we accumulate more debt. If we keep going like we have been, we're screwed. We've hit a hundred and fifty thousand only on good months."

Donavan nodded. "I get it. So, what are our options? Increase contracts per month?"

"I don't see what else we _can_ do." Darius held out his hands placatingly. "I'm already serving up every legitimate contract I can. Unless you want me to sidestep the Mercenary Review Board entirely, we're basically out of options."

The new commander winced. Sidestepping the MRB could have… dire consequences, and _nobody_ wanted to tick off their overseers in ComStar, the gatekeeper of all FTL communication.

Yang shuddered. "Go around the MRB? No thanks. Taking on uncertified jobs is a great way to wind up with a knife in your back."

Donavan nodded in agreement. "We're already running a lot of risks out here. We'll only go there if we have to."

"Amen to that chief. Remind me again why we don't just skip town and head to a nicer corner of the Periphery?"

"Because," explained Sumire, "the banks and the JumpShip crews have an arrangement. Until we pay up, they're gonna keep us on a short leash."

Donavan blinked in surprise; that was new to him. And it changed things. They needed contracts to live, and if they couldn't travel to get them, well, then they had to find them here. And if they weren't on the MRB list, well… then they'd have to look elsewhere. It was as simple as that.

"What this boils down to is that we need contracts. If we can't move, we're stuck with what's local, and that's not enough. So we either close up shot, or we find other contracts. Darius, start looking for unlisted contracts."

Yang winced, but didn't disagree. "Yeah, boss… guess I'd better get mentally prepared for that knife in the back, huh?"

"It's settled then, Commander, I'll start digging for contracts outside the MRB system. Who knows? Maybe it'll work out for the best. It isn't like we've got that much to lose. But in the meantime, we need to find another paying job, and our prospects in this system have completely dried up. The banks won't let us leave the sector, but we've got a couple of systems of leeway, so I recommend booking travel to a neighboring system and seeing what the Review Board has for us there. With some luck, we'll find enough to keep going until something better rolls in."

"Specifically," cut in Sumire, "we can access Alloway, Bellerophon, and Detroit."

"As you say, Sumire. Earlier today I picked out a contract that includes travel fees in the deal. The details are up in the Command Center when you're ready to have a look Commander."

Donavan stood. "Alright team, that concludes the meeting. Darius, I'll be up with you shortly to discuss the contract. Sumire, get the details from Darius and get us moving. We need to hit our targets by the next financial review day, so no time to waste. While we're travelling, I'll stop by each of you to get a feel for what issues you're dealing with. That's all."

The team parted ways, moving with a newfound enthusiasm. Once they'd gone, Donavan slumped back down into his makeshift chair as the adrenaline and excitement wore off. This new enthusiasm was good, but brittle. They hadn't changed anything, not really. The only meaningful decision was an act of pure desperation to avoid going the way of most mercenary outfits. Shoot, at almost five years old they were already an outlier.

He'd been made the captain, but of a sinking ship. _Well, time to start bailing._


	5. Commander

**Chapter 4: Commander**

**April 6****th****, 3025**

**Ur Cruinne System, Frontier**

The Command Center was an optimistic, some might even say euphemistic, name for the cramped corner of the bridge that was dominated by a fair-sized display table. Donavan stepped up to the table and considered the man standing beside it, Darius Oliveira. Despite being part of the command team for some time, Donavan had kept his distance from the others. But that was over now—if he was going to lead these people, he needed to know them, at least better than he did now.

"Hey Darius. You know, despite all the time we've spent together, I don't know you very well. Tell me a little about yourself."

Darius raised an eyebrow questioningly, then shrugged. "Alright. I grew up on Nassau Heights… it's one of the hab stations orbiting Artru in the Aurigan Reach. Thirty decks of economic stratification, with the corporate suits on the upper decks and everyone else crammed into the lower ones. My old man was a dockhand; we lived on Deck twenty-eight, two levels up from the bottom, with the other station maintenance personnel. Twelve hours a day, six days a week, my dad would load and unload cargo shuttles. Vacuum-sealed quiller and nutrient paste for people like us, and luxury goods for the suits upstairs."

He looked down at the board, eyes seeing something else entirely. "He must've unloaded a thousand cases of Cassildan Eel Roe—plump, succulent eggs the size of melon balls. Never got to taste any, though. Any of those tins would've cost him half a year's wages.

Darius gave himself a shake and looked up. "Anyways, Commander, I don't wanna saddle you with my life story. Suffice it to say that I got an eyeful of what I _didn't_ want to be on Nassau Heights, and I did what I had to do to change my circumstances. By the age of sixteen I struck out on my own. I left that station with a handful of skills, an enormous web of contacts, and a rucksack full of expensive caviar. And once I made it off of Nassau Heights, I never, ever looked back."

"And how did you wind up with the Marauders?"

"Commander Markham picked me up, saw potential in me, I guess. Maybe that's why I wanted to keep the name alive for so long."

"Thanks for sharing Darius, I appreciate it. So, let's talk a little more about our financial situation. Who, exactly, do we owe all this money too?"

"How about I give you the top three. First, you've got Blue Horizon, that's the big commercial bank on Lyreton. They're the ones that own the lease on the Leopard. Then there's the Indri Consortium. They're based in Marik space, but they've got people everywhere. We also borrowed from one of their 'associates' to make the jump away from Coromodir on the day of the coup."

Yeah, those were the kinds of people you didn't get away from. "Alright, then let's talk about how we're going to start paying it off. What's the job?"

"It's a contract from the Free Worlds League, through a lot of intermediaries. One of their operations claims to have recovered a piece of Star League Defense Force technology but before they could deliver it, they were captured by local government forces. They're hiring us to assault the location, recover the technology, and escape. Now, I'm guessing the tech is some broken piece of scrap, but the Free Worlds League is willing to pay to recover it. We go in and get out before they even know what hit them."

"Perfect. What type of resistance are we looking at?"

"Hard to say for sure, but from what I'm hearing there should be some light tanks, possibly a light 'Mech or two. Nothing you can't handle."

Donavan clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man, Darius. We'll make it work. I'm going to hit the sack; I've got a lot to think about. We'll talk more later."

**April 7, 3025**

**En-route to jump point in Ur Cruinne System, Frontier**

The 'Mech Bay buzzed with the constant hum of activity that Donavan associated with Yang Virtanen, chief 'Mech Tech and all-around fix-it guy. As always, he took a moment on entering the Bay to just stand in awe of the monster machines around him. The Blackjack he'd had since as long as he could remember, the last remaining tie to his past. Behemoth's monster Shadowhawk, Glitch's Vindicator, Medusa's Locust, and of particular note at the moment, Dekker's Spider.

The 'Mech had taken a bad hit out there, and one whole arm was missing. Once again, Donavan wondered how Dekker had gotten his hands on it. With their factories long since destroyed, there weren't many Spiders left these days, and they were highly prized. As fast as a Locust on the ground, a better jumper than the Stringer or the Wasp, and outgunning either of them with its twin medium lasers, it was a masterpiece of design and in the right hands it moved like a gymnast.

"Hey Boss, I didn't see you there! Welcome back to the 'Mech Bay. What can I do for you?"

Yang ambled over confidently, waving his most distinguishing feature, his mechanical right arm.

"Doing alright, Yang, doing alright. So, talk to me about the Spider."

Yang shrugged. "You know how hard their parts are to find anywhere, much less out here in the back end of beyond. We're using the last spares we have, plus some spares from the Vindicator for the hand itself—it won't be as good as the original, but at least it will be a workable hand."

"Good. What's the ETA on that?"

"Ah, if you want me to test it to make sure it actually works, I'll need a week or so. We're prioritizing replacing the armor on the other 'Mechs first."

Donavan nodded. That was better than he'd hoped, actually. Once again, he'd underestimated Yang. "Great work, Yang. Now, for the big picture. I need an assessment on the Leopard; how much trouble are we in?"

"Dunno. I mean, we're doing okay for the moment, and I can usually fix things when they break, but I'm a 'Mechtech, not a starship engineer."

"Fair enough." He took a slow breath and braced himself. He hated this get-to-know you stuff, but it was important. "So… like I mentioned, I'm going to try to get to know each of the command team a little better, so why don't you tell me a little about yourself. How'd you wind up with this crew?"

"That's a long story, Boss. Shortest version I can give you? I signed on after I served my time in the Third Succession War, fighting for the Capellan Confederation."

"Oh? Which part of the Confederation are you from?"

"Bryant. You may have heard of our claim to fame: the Crowley Lizard Cow… No? Well, trust me, they're delicious." Yang kept talking, clearly enthusiastic about his home planet. "Anyway, as the story goes, Bryant was a really nice place once—a tourist spot, big with hikers and fishing enthusiasts. Pale blue skies, emerald green seas, and a booming agricultural business. You know, the works."

"Really? I would've thought I'd heard about a place as nice as that."

Yang smiled. "I'm sure you would have… if it was still like that. Stefan Amaris got to it a couple centuries before I was born and, well… that was that. Bryant used to have these enormous orbital mirrors — 'storm inhibitors' they called 'em. The Star League put them in place. When Amaris took the system in his civil war, he had his troops use them as target practice. Without those mirrors, Bryant reverted to its natural state; a miserable little ball of windblown dirt, actively hostile to human life. By the time I came along, the only places where people could live in relative safety were the planet's poles. Of course, you can't fit an entire planet's population into a handful of cities at its poles—there isn't enough space, no matter how far down you dig or how tall you build. A lot of people, mostly the poor, died in the early days. There's still a lot of overcrowding in Bryant's cities even now. That's my childhood home in a nutshell—too many people jammed into a tiny, claustrophobic space, and nowhere to go but off-planet. I cleared out of there as fast as I could and never looked back. Gotta admit though, I do miss the taste of Lizard Cow."

Well that was gut wrenching, but a depressingly common story as the big Houses proceeded to wreck everything in sight in an effort to come out on top. "So you left Bryant. How'd you wind up as a 'Mech Tech?"

Yang waived Donavan after him and moved over to the corner of the 'Mech Bay which passed for his office, where he leaned back against a workbench. "I didn't really have anything going for me, so I joined the military. I served with the Second St. Ive's Lancers, First Battallion, under Major Ling."

Donavan let out a low whistle. The Second St. Ive's Lancers had a long, proud history. Whatever he might say, he'd obviously turned some heads with his competence to get tapped for that position.

"Hey, it was just a job, though we did see more action than most. The arm is a souvenir of my time in the service." He frowned down at the complicated machinery, flexing mechanical fingers into a fist. "I lost the original back in 3010 on St. Loris. Y'know, when we first arrived on St. Loris I loved the place. It's an agricultural world … sort of a breadbasket for the neighboring systems. Green fields, rolling hills, you get the picture. We'd just walked out of hell in Kittery—the Fed Rats drove us out in '05 with our tails between our legs, so it looked like paradise to us. I remember kicking back in the 'Mech Bay, my feet propped up on an engine block, sipping on a snifter of Ambergrist Vermouth. Not a bad way to spend a sunny afternoon. Anyway, turned out the Federated Suns weren't done with us yet. We were barely a month into our deployment when they sent the Ceti Hussars to burn us out."

He sighed and shrugged, manifestly trying to be fair. "I'm sure that there were some strategic reasons for House Davion to want St. Ives, but it sure felt personal to me. Long story short, one of their scouts managed to slip through our perimeter and hit my 'Mech Bay. I was tinkering around in a Centurion's custom-made rumble seat at the time. Being surrounded by all that armor is the only reason I made it out alive. Still, I didn't make it unscathed. I lost two of my favorite assistants and my own right arm, and I've got this ugly thing grafted onto me as a reminder. And yet, here I am, doing mercenary work for a living. Some people never learn, I guess."

"That would shake up anybody. Is that why you left?"

"After my tour of duty, you mean? No, though it was a hell of a shakeup, I'll tell you that. I dunno, it was just… time for a change. Besides, the place wasn't for me anymore. In a way, it never really was. I learned a lot from my time in the service. Got a first-hand view of the elitist bullshit that saturates Capellan culture, how it rewards highborn idiots at the common people's expense. Speaking as a thoroughly common man, that didn't sit right with me. When my tour was over I walked away and never looked back."

"Those nobles, right?" He gave Yang a lopsided grin. "And just as you get away, you find yourself with me and Sumire constantly telling you what to do."

Yang snorted. "Yeah, but you're both _competent_ nobles, and you aren't afraid to get your hands dirty. At the end of the day, that's all I really care about. I wonder how many times I watched talented engineers get passed over for promotions so some idiot with a title could advance? Too many to count."

"Well, you're certainly keeping this noble on his feet despite my best efforts. I'm glad you're here, Yang: you've brought the Blackjack back from what I was sure would be the end a time or two."

"Way more than twice, if memory serves. Still, I appreciate the kind words. And for what it's worth, I'm happy to be here with this crew. Going career military would've been an enormous mistake."

"In your shoes, I'd probably do the same. But it's time I head back to get some rest—we're not that far out from Bellerophon, and I need to sit down and put together a plan for how we're going to pull it off. Good talking with you."

**April 13, 3025**

**Bellerophon, Frontier**

**High Orbit**

The Bellerophan system boasted a single habitable system, though habitable was pushing it. They were going to set down in a rocky, canyon-filled area, with average temperatures pushing 40c and the accompanying arid atmosphere. There was limited agriculture and significant conflict over who controlled it. Most recently, the three-way struggle between some mercenaries, a group of religious fanatics, and a local milia had gone the way of the militia, so they were the planetary government now.

Bellerophon was pretty far out there in unclaimed space, roughly equidistant between the Magistracy to anti-spinward (galactic west) and the Aurigan Directorate to spinward (galactic east). While the Free Worlds League could've taken either of them if push came to shove, they weren't willing to turn their back to the other Inner Sphere powers while they did it. So with the planetary government getting its act together, the League was pulling out its assets so far from home.

The key point was that if this was a truly galaxy-shaking discovery like a Star League memory core, the League would have sent an armada; the fact that they hadn't suggested Darius was right and it was garbage. The upside: the League probably wouldn't try to wipe them out to hide the evidence. Downside: planetary governments don't like being looted, especially when they don't have much to begin with. Throw in some overconfidence from having won their little civil war, and knowing the League wouldn't be too ticked off by kicking their hired mercenaries firmly in the pants, and they were likely to make a fight out of it when they really shouldn't.

"So team, thoughts?"

Darius sighed. "Nothing has changed my mind since getting here. Everyone thinks it's junk, but the League is willing to spend a little money, though not commit their own forces, on the off-chance it's legit."

Sumire shrugged. "I have to agree. With the locals feeling tough they might try to put up a fight, but on a rock like this I'd be surprised if they could field anything other than a couple of platoons of infantry and some supporting tanks."

"That's about my read as well. Alright, let's get this done. Darius, hit the ready light. Sumire, get us down there." Donavan turned to walk to the 'Mech Bay as he was already dressed in his battle attire of exercise shorts and Cooling Vest, which plugged into the Battlemech and circulated coolant to keep him from passing out from heatstroke in the sauna that was a 'Mech cockpit. Couple that with the bulky and stuffy neurohelment and piloting a 'Mech wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

As he walked the alert went out, pulsing the battle stations light and sending the other pilots running to the 'Mech Bay, though he wouldn't be surprised if they were all already there. This drop wasn't exactly unplanned.

The 'Mech Bay itself was awash with activity as Yang coordinated his assistant 'MechTechs in last-minute system checks. Donavan did a quick check of the surroundings and, seeing nothing amiss, grabbed hold of the ladder and clambered his way up towards the cockpit of the Blackjack and plopped himself into the command chair. He ran through the startup sequence, feeling the hum of the fusion engine powering up an alarmingly short distance away, and pulled on the bulky neurohelmet.

The heads up display blinked to life showing him the status of the Blackjack as well as the rest of the lance, each in their stall in the 'MechBay. A countdown appeared in the upper left corner of the display as Sumire fed them sensor data from the Leopard.

"Alright lance this is Wolf, com check."

"Behemoth here." Her Shadowhawk lit up on the HUD as she spoke.

"Glitch here." Wolf was sure she'd be raising her hand like a student in class if the cramped confines of her Vindicator permitted it.

"Medusa here." His voice was eager, excited to get back in the action.

"Dekker on standby." If he was annoyed that his damaged Spider kept him on the sidelines, his constant professionalism hid it well.

"Alright people prepare to drop. On touchdown secure the drop zone taking your designated sector, then we'll move from there. You know the drill."

The coms turned quiet as each pilot did whatever it was they did to mentally prepare for combat. Wolf felt himself paradoxically begin to relax. As bumpy, stuffy, and insufferably hot as a Battlemech was, being in the cockpit of his Blackjack was as close to him as he had left. This was where he belonged.

The timer ticked down to zero just as the DropShip touched down and the 'MechBay doors slid open. "Deploy." Wolf move quickly out the door, sensors probing for threats as the rest of the lance moved out behind him, covering his flanks. It was unlikely anyone would try to take down the heavily armed DropShip without more firepower than existed on the whole of this backwater planet, but you never knew.

The lance made it out quickly, each covering a separate field of fire. As Glitch cleared the ship he keyed his com. "Leopard, clear."

"Got it Wolf, we're heading out now. Good hunting." Sumire pulled away with the DropShip, leaving the lance in a cloud of brown dust. This really was an ugly pile of dirt.

"Alright lance, nothing on screens yet. Move on the target, standard formation."

They fell into their positions with easy familiarity, Medusa scouting ahead with the Locust while the others fanned out behind him. They moved forward at a sustainable lope, eating up distance but not straining the 'Mechs too hard, and they closed in quickly on the site.

"Boss, I have 'em on sensors. Picking up some other stuff too, mostly tanks, maybe a couple 'Mechs, really light."

Wolf frowned. The 'Mechs were unexpected, but at least they were lights. He considered the terrain quickly. The target site itself was down in a narrow divide, a cleft between two large plateaus. They were making their way up the divide, and the sensor readings passed on from Medusa were coming from up on top, ideally situated to fire down on them as they made their approach.

"Acknowledged. Fall back and swing out right with me. Behemoth, you and Glitch swing left. Get up on that plateaus and we'll get a better look at them, then smash them between us."

The lance split two and two, each heading out away from each other, and Wolf took one last moment to consider again. Splitting up was risky when you weren't very confident in what you were facing, but they were also in the middle of nowhere—he'd be stunned if this was some big ambush. No, the biggest danger was allowing all those tanks to concentrate their fire on a single 'Mech. Best to split them up and rely on their individual unit superiority. If they got in trouble, well, the lance had jumpjets to get back down the canyon, and the tanks didn't.

He refocused on his immediate surroundings and saw they were almost in position—he'd relied on Medusa to pick them a path upwards, and the occasionally over-eager man hadn't let him down.

"Lance, I'm seeing some galleons and… got those 'Mechs, a pair of Locust 1V's. I'd guess those anti-personnel weapons were helpful in their little shindig, but they're not going to do much here. Focus on the tanks, outside to inside, and I bet the Locusts make a break for it—there's no way they could replace them out here. Medusa, stay tucked in behind me. Lance, move in."

The lance clicked their mics in acknowledgement and made their approach. Wolf squeezed the trigger sending AC/2 rounds downrange and worked his way along the line of tanks methodically, which were only just now starting to reposition, putting a pair of rounds in each. Medusa followed up, finishing off any tanks in his wake still showing signs of life with his twin machine guns and single medium laser.

Scattered fire started to come in, but it was undisciplined, mostly panic fire that only occasionally pinged against his armor. With their outer lines crumbling the Locusts let off a blast or two each from their underslung single medium laser, hitting nothing in particular, and took off running at a blistering pace of just under 100 kph; the lance had no chance of catching up. The remaining tanks, seeing the Locusts abandon them, lost all unit cohesion and scattered.

"Lance, hold fire: let them go. These folks have a tough enough time as it is. No sense in killing any more of them than we have to."

"You sure boss? Those Locusts were junk, I could overhaul them easily."

"Yeah, and get mowed down two on one. Take it easy Medusa. The target's just over that crest there to the left, I need you to take a peek and see what we've got."

"On it."

Wolf shook his head. Maybe it was that he was in charge of paying the repair costs now, but the idea of chasing after enemies to fight while outnumbered two to one just didn't have the sort of appeal for him that Medusa evidently had. He sighed and kept his eyes on the scanners as the Locust moved in with at least moderate caution, which was Medusa's equivalent of tiptoeing in silently. The facility itself was fairly small and the Locust quickly traversed it, going beyond Wolf's line of sight.

A few moments later and Medusa spoke again. "I've got it. A handful of folks calling themselves 'unaffiliated' with one piece of space junk."

Wolf shook his head. There was no changing Medusa. "Alright lance, spread out and cover the area. Medusa, stay with the target. Leopard, we're ready for pick up."


	6. All In

**Chapter 5: All In**

**April 16, 3025**

**Bellerophon, Frontier**

**High Orbit**

Donavan was still no closer to re-naming the Marauders. Instead, he found himself back in the Command Center, but instead of by the contract display panel, he was a handful of steps away in front of the navigation board while Sumire Meyer input additional information into the plot.

"So, Sumire, I'm making the rounds. Got a minute?"

She looked up from the chart and shrugged. "Sure."

Donavan took a seat. She didn't. "The decision to look for uncertified contracts… does that satisfy your concerns?"

Sumire frowned. "My concerns won't be satisfied until our creditors have been paid and the loan sharks are off our backs. But… it's a step in the right direction, and that makes me happy. Look Dona—er, Commander, I'm not blind to the risks that uncertified contracts entail. I know what we're doing is dangerous, but I still think it's the right call. It's the best chance we've got to dig ourselves out of this hole."

Well, that was fair enough—he felt similarly. "Glad to see we're on the same page then. But now that I'm in charge of this outfit, I'm trying to get to know the team a bit better. So if you don't mind, tell me a little more about yourself. Where are you from?"

She gave him a measured look. "I'm from a noble family, like you. We were old money—made our fortune out in Rasalhague before the Draconis Combine conquered it, then repatriated to the Periphery in the Taurian Concordat. That's where I grew up. I'm not sure if this is the kind of stuff you were looking for, but we can talk about whatever. I'm not shy."

Donavan smiled. "A taurian, huh? I bet that makes you a lot of friends out here. What part of the Concordat did you grow up in?"

"On New Vandenberg. It's a nice enough place, I suppose. Do you like birds?"

Donavan blinked. "Uh… sure, I guess."

"Then you'd like New Vandenberg. It's basically one big aviary. Something like two-thirds of the native fauna has feathers, flutters on the wind, and splatters its excrement across every available surface." She sighed. "Naturally, the original colonists adopted the feather little monsters into the culture, and those of us that came after were kind of… stuck with it. Statutes, fountains, murals, you name it. Just a giant, feathery pile of screeching alien birds. If the system had a motto, it'd be 'squawk.'"

"That sounds… messy."

"You have no idea."

"So… is that what inspired you to learn to fly a Leopard?"

Sumire rolled her eyes. "More like what drove me to escape. I enrolled in the Taurian Naval Institute on New Vandenberg. Well, among other places. It's a big campus. The low-gravity training station orbiting Lompac was my second home for a time. TNI flight training isn't usually open to civilians, but my parents had good credit back then, and they could name-drop Protector Calderon. That'll get you pretty far in the Concordat… for a while, anyway."

Donavan whistled. "Impressive."

"Yeah, but it also caused problems on occasion. The other cadets in my class weren't especially happy sharing air with a civvy, but they couldn't say much. I was a noble and they weren't. Everyone sort of kept me at arm's length, so I had plenty of time to concentrate on my studies. I got my certification in both DropShip and JumpShip operation in four years. I even tried working on a commercial jump crew for a while, once upon a time."

"Oh yeah? And how did you like that?"

"Well, the people were fun, but it wasn't for me. The ratio of flying to violent jump sickness skewed hard in the wrong direction."

"So, how did the Noble House Meyer react to all of this?"

Sumire grimaced. "I was just fine with it, and as for House Meyer, well, you're looking at it. My parents are both gone—blood cancer and heart disease, respectively. Both treatable, but they were out of money at that point, so into the ground they went. Ditto my brother David, who ran off to serve in the Third Succession War and never came back."

_Ouch_. "Ah… I'm sorry. I know how hard it can be to be alone."

She shrugged. "The galaxy was at war for nearly two hundred years, Donavan. People died. You don't need to apologize for it. And…" she hesitated, the first sign of discomfort he'd ever seen from her. "Truthfully, I was never really all that close to any of them." She paused a moment and looked out the viewport as the stars slowly drifted past. "David was thirteen years older than me, and a foot out the door before I turned three. And my parents, well… they raised me by proxy in the traditional noble fashion. There was no real bond there, even when I was young. None of this is to say that my folks were bad people. They weren't! They were just… doing what they knew. Their upbringings had been outsourced, just like mine was. Anyway, that's all I've got to say about my family. They're gone, I'm here, the end. Next question."

Fair enough. Of course, he was in no hurry to mention that he hadn't had that experience—his family had been too poor to afford that extra-system boarding education, and they'd brought in tutors like Sir Raju instead. It might sound odd to an outsider thinking of them as poor while they held onto the Battlemech but selling that was dropping out of the nobility altogether. And, frankly, there hadn't been any takers at anything remotely like a fair price.

"Changing the subject then, how was Rasalhague before the whole relocation?"

"As my parents told it, we were landowners on Pomme de Terre. It's an agricultural word, sort of the breadbasket of the Draconis Combine… and yes, before you ask, I know that Pomme de Terre means 'potato.'" She sighed. "My ancestors came from the planet potato. It took some time for me to accept that, but hey, here we are. Anyways, moving on, House Meyer's holdings were meager, but the value of that land was astronomical. For minor nobility we were actually quite wealthy. And then the Third Succession War broke out, and the political rhetoric got ugly. House Meyer didn't want a single part of what was happening, so my ancestors emptied their accounts and ran. As a rule, House Kurita takes a really dim view of nobles who cut and run. Words like 'traitor' and 'defector' start getting thrown around. In the Combine, you _really_ don't want to be on the receiving end of allegations like that. I wouldn't be standing here today if House Calderon hadn't granted them asylum in the Taurian Concordat. In all likelihood, House Meyer wouldn't been wiped out before I was even born."

"Yeah, I've heard that House Kurita can be a little… harsh."

Sumire rolled her eyes. "Vindictive and stubborn, more like."

Donavan was all out of conversation topics, so he decided to call that enough for the time being. "Thanks for being willing to talk Sumire, but it's about time I got back to work."

…

Donavan made his way briskly towards the 'Mech Bay already in his battle dress of running shorts and coolant vest to meet the rest of the team. Given just how far out in the middle of nowhere they were, there was only a single contract available that would pay enough to be worth considering, and that was from the planetary government.

Normally he'd be quite wary of being hired by the people he'd just attacked, but this wasn't exactly a 'normal' situation. First, if anyone was going to have a lively respect for their ability to dish out the hurt, it was the people on the receiving end of it. And second, the locals didn't really have anything to betray them _with_. And, of course, he was desperate for cash.

He moved through the 'Mech Bay dodging machinery and techs with practiced ease until he stood at the foot of the Blackjack and pulled up the workstation specs. Yang and his crew had worked quickly to replace the armor plating he'd lost in their last outing, but they were still a ways from replacing the Spider's arm.

Everything looked good so he grabbed the ladder's rungs and made his way up towards the cockpit. The mission was simple enough—escort the government's troop transports and their two locusts to the last holdout bastion of religious zealots. They'd been pretty adamant with Darius that they wanted the base intact, so they weren't going to participate in the base assault itself. From the sound of it, the locals were hoping that when the zealots saw that much metal coming at them even they would cut and run, but only time would tell.

It meant a lower payout, but very little risk of damage. It was probably all they could afford, anyways.

He dropped into the command chair, popped on the neurohelmet, and plugged into the Battlemech.

"Lance, Wolf. Ready checks."

He turned the whole thing over in his mind one last time as the Lance's call-ins washed over him, then shrugged. They were committed now.

The Leopard swooped in low over the arid, dusty terrain a healthy distance away from the government's forces. The Leopard itself bristled with weapons, almost certainly carrying more firepower than the rest of the planet combined, but it was the single absolutely essential element of the mercenary unit that couldn't be replaced. And it was also their home.

The 'Mechs unloaded briskly and Sumire quickly zoomed the Leopard back up into the sky and to safety while Wolf looked over the plot. The locals had rustled up several replacement tanks to form a semi-respectable armored column—or it would have been if they weren't so obviously old and broken down. They were being watched over by a Locust, but there was no sign of the other one—their spring away from danger must have broken something.

"Well, they're at least where they're supposed to be. Keep an eye on them though—we were shooting at them not that long ago." Wolf switched com channels to the provided government channel. "This is Wolf for Colonel Raichel."

A gravelly masculine voice responded immediately. "Wolf, this is Raichel. I'm not going to pretend I'm happy to see you after you killed my people. But… I also know that it wasn't personal, and though I hate to admit it, you could have killed a lot more of us if you'd wanted to. So you're not going to have any problems from us, Commander. Let's get this done."

"Acknowledged." Wolf wordlessly entered commands into the tactical net, spreading his 'Mechs into a loose screen around the column as it ground into motion. The long march was tense but uneventful, aside from twice calling for a halt when a tank broke down. After two long hours the base came up on scanners and, low and behold, at least some of the defenders were running in a motley assortment of personal and military vehicles.

"Colonel Raichel, Wolf. This is where we get off. We'll wait here until your attack is underway, then we're withdrawing."

"Understood and appreciated, Wolf. Raichel clear."

The 'Mechs slowed to a halt well out of range of the settlement while the tanks spread out from their column into a wide net and accelerated. The settlement mounted a handful of light laser turrets which opened fire, showing at least some of the defenders had chose to stand their ground. The tanks returned fire, launching auto-cannon shells and lasers back.

Wolf felt vaguely unsettled in the cockpit of his Blackjack, watching the furious exchange marked by the occasional flash of light that served both as pyre and memorial for the men and women dying in them. The com channels burned with rapidfire communications, orders, and screams, but none of it reached him; for once, he was outside looking in.

He watched a few moments longer then disconnected the channel. "Lance, it's time to go. Head to the pickup zone. Sumire, we'll see you in ten."

…

Donavan emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, his jumpsuit already on, scrubbing at his short black hair with a towel. They were heading up to orbit, then from there on to the system's designated jump point to wait for a jumpship to take them on to the next system.

Surprsingly, the Leopard's intercom crackled to life. "Commander to ops, Commander to ops."

The man in question shrugged and turned from the door to his cramped (but private!) quarters and headed over to see what Darius wanted, taking the towel with him. By the time he arrived the others were already there—Yang in his orange jumpsuit, Sumire as stern as ever, and Darius, who took the lead.

"Alright everybody, the Commander's here, so gather around. After our last talk I bit the bullet and started fishing around for uncertified contracts, and I might, I repeat, _might_ have caught us something."

"Who's the client?" demanded Sumire immediately.

Darius grimaced. "Unknown—she wouldn't ID herself in the message, but she claims to be a member of the Canopian elite. She says that she's got a big job lined up and she wants us for it. Us, specifically. As in, and I quote, 'the mercenary group led by Donavan Melodan.'"

All eyes turned to Donavan, who looked back at them steadily. "I don't know. The Canopians put my family in a lose-lose situation then shipped me off to the Aurigan Reach in what was supposed to be a nice gig, so I'm not especially fond of them, but I've been quiet enough, and far enough away, that I can't think of any reason they'd be gunning for me, either."

Yang leaned forward on the box he'd perched on. "This all sounds perfectly legitimate and not at all suspicious. You're certain this 'client' of yours isn't really a bounty hunter out to repossess the ship?"

"Hey, you wanted off the books. This is what you get. Look, I'm not certain about any of this—that's why the Mercenary Review Board was made in the first place, but I _can_ confirm that she's rich. She reached out to us with a priority HPG message, and those things ain't cheap."

Donavan cut in. "If she's saying she wants to hire us and she's got money, then that's exactly what we asked for, Darius, and you delivered. We all know the risks of doing a deal like this, but we don't have a lot of choice here."

Sumire nodded. "I agree, and I say it's worth the risk. We take a chance now, or we watch it slowly fall apart around us."

"Yeah," muttered Yang, "let's just keep our fingers crossed they don't vent us into space the second we show up."

Darius shot Yang a look. "Thanks for that delightful image. As the Commander said, this is sketchy as hell, but it's the best we're likely to find. If you don't like this, you should some of the ones I turned down. But for now, all we have to do is talk to the people.

Donavan nodded firmly. "Then it's decided. It's… getting towards evening local time, so I want a good night's sleep for the whole command team and we'll call them tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

…

**April 17, 3025**

**Bellerophon, Frontier**

**High Orbit**

Despite his gung-ho attitude, Donavan was anything but sure about their present course. All he positive about was that he couldn't think of any _other_ choices they could make that didn't doom them to dismantlement. The hours drug painfully by staring at the ceiling above his bunk, and eventually he gave up to wander the ship.

At length he found himself in the cockpit, where to his surprise Sumire was sitting in the pilot's seat. The cockpit was much less impressive looking than a Battlemechs, he decided, as he settled into the secondary seat in the small sectioned off room from which Sumire guided the Leopard. It looked more like a computer server than a starship.

Sumire glanced at him curiously. "Commander? Couldn't sleep?"

Donavan tossed his wandering thoughts aside. "Something like that. So, Sumire—talk to me about tomorrow. I'll admit I've never had to think much about the flying aspect of the outfit, so give me the simple version. When we light that transmission up if they're in system they can spot us—what could we run into?"

Sumire considered the question. "In theory? Almost anything. In practice, we should be fine."

Donavan blinked. "Uh, could you explain that?"

The pilot rolled her eyes dramatically. "Groundpounders. Alright, back in the Star League days they took space combat seriously. Today JumpShips are too important, and too expensive, to put into combat, so they don't bother to arm them. But back then, they developed an even more expensive jump drive and put it into a ship that could actually maneuver, then armed them to the teeth. Thing is, they're unbelievable expensive to build, and just as hard to maintain. There might be a few warships still out there, but if there are, I doubt anyone knows how to fix them. And even if they did exist, there's no way they'd reveal their existence, much less put one in harm's way, for people like us."

"And with the warships gone, there wasn't much point left in aerospace fighters. There was nothing left to shoot in space, and they aren't as effective in atmosphere as your every-day conventional fighter, which are a hell of a lot cheaper to make and maintain anyways. A Leopard can hold onto two aerospace fighters, so it's _possible_ the hop out of a Leopard to get us, but I've never seen a Leopard that hadn't modified those holds for other purposes, ours included. That leaves other Leopards as the most heavily armed things in space, and even that is only because we have to make hot pickups on the ground."

Donavan nodded slowly. "So… except for major powers that hang onto aerospace fighters to jump anyone that tries to hijack a JumpShip, if anything is waiting for us, the trap won't be with weapons."

"Exactly. If a major power, or even just a Periphery power like the Magistracy wants us dead, there's nothing we can do about it, but nobody else is likely to have anything that could bother us."

Donavan leaned back as far as the seat would allow to think, running through scenarios in his head. The chances were very low they'd hit an aerospace fighter, much less a warship, and if they did there was nothing they could do about it anyways. Yeah, any way you cut it, they were probably safe. Probably.

He sighed. "Remind me again why we're in this business."

Surprisingly, Sumire answered the rhetorical question. "Because we love it."

Donavan glanced at her. Whatever he had expected, it certainly wasn't that.

She shrugged. "The sense of freedom you get when you hold the controls in your hands, the feeling that you are in command of your own fate. At least, that's how I feel."

Donavan smiled. "Well, you're not alone in that, Sumire. You're not alone in that."

…

After all the concern, no mystery starships or alien death rays appeared to blast them when the responded to the call and connected to their mystery client. Almost immediately they received a heavily encrypted com call on another channel. Donavan nodded and Darius accepted the call, putting up the signal on the main display in the center of the cramped ops room.

On the screen, and in full video no less, appeared a woman of about forty, though it was hard to tell as she clearly took great care of her skin and made use of subtle, artfully applied cosmetics. Her black hair draped with a perfectly casual air to her ears, framing a striking dark brown face with bright green eyes. Their color was accentuated by accents of the exact same shade of green on the otherwise white outfit of the royal family of the Magistracy of Canopus, House Centrella.

Donavan felt a conflicting mess of emotions at the sight and forced himself to hold still.

The woman immediately commanded the conversation. "Mr. Oliveira, thank you for honoring my request to meet. I am Ana Maria Centrella. You've heard of my family, I'm sure." She looked across the room, extending the rhetorical question to all present.

Sumire held herself well under control. Yang looked a little uncomfortable but was making an effort to look unimpressed by the noble. Darius gasped in shocked surprise, probably because he had the clearest idea of just how unusual this was, while Donavan managed to restrain himself to a tense nod.

"L-Lady Centrella, this… is a surprise." Darius quickly got a grip on himself. "I wouldn't expect a member of the Canopian royal family to even know who we are, let alone approach us in such a… non-traditional manner."

Brutally honest there, but Donavan approved—he wanted this communication to be as clear as possible. No room for false airs of importance here.

Lady Centrella nodded regally, every move polished and refined. "This is not a traditional contract, and I don't need Comstar asking questions."

Donavan and Sumire shot each other worried looks at that. The last thing they needed was problems with Comstar.

"And there is no reason to involve the Review Board—I already know that I want to hire you. Have I piqued your interest, Commander Melodan?"

Donavan managed to keep the grimace from showing on his face at the summary dismissal of Darius, who was very well respected in his field. He'd found _her_, after all, even if it was becoming pretty clear that she'd wanted to be found.

Donavan took a small step forward. "Fair enough, Lady Centrella. But the Mercenary Board was instituted to protect us as much as it is to protect clients."

"And yet, it was you who pursued a contract beyond their protections. I suspect that means you are rather desperate, I'm afraid."

Donavan blinked. _Canopians._ Well, if she wanted to play this game, then he'd play it. He put on his best noble voice and responded. "I acknowledge the point, Lady Centrella, yet allow me an observation of my own. The Magistracy has its own 'Mech Warriors, and more prominent mercenaries available to you closer to home. Beyond that, the royal family, however distantly related," he emphasized slightly, "is far removed from the daily travails of mercenaries and are intelligent enough to leave military matters primarily to the military. This suggests that your mission involves politics more than tactics, and that we are your best political choice, whatever our other shortcomings may be. That you are personally involved I suspect is to impress upon us the importance of the job and ensure we agree to it, which means you are perhaps as, let's say determined, to hire us as we are to be hired."

Despite the impropriety of disagreeing, however politely, with a noble of staggeringly higher position, and the barb thrown in about her distance from the crown, Lady Centrella allowed herself a momentary grin that looked for a moment completely natural.

"I think I'm going to like you, Commander. Unfortunately, you are correct that some aspects of this assignment are political, and politics requires my presence elsewhere very shortly. You are to travel to the coordinates I am now sending you and make a ground insertion. Once there you will secure an object and clear the way for a recovery team. Politics prevent us from making use of our own forces, as you surmised. I believe it goes without saying that the job must be done quietly."

"We may be able to do that for you. We will require more information, of course, including compensation."

"Of course. In exchange, I will pay down the interest on your rather sizeable loans and provide you the breathing room you've been after. A fair deal, wouldn't you say?"

Donavan kept his face straight with some effort. She was vastly overpaying for them—for that amount she could hire them for a year straight, and she was paying upfront. There was a lot more politics in this job than he'd feared. Favors were being exchanged, big ones. But by whom? For what?

"And the target?"

Lady Centrella let out a delicate sigh as he declined the bait. "This."

Her image was replaced on the screen with a grainy image of an enormous grounded DropShip, though it was unlike any he'd ever seen before. Ramshackle structures had been built up alongside it like barnacles on a rock. A moment later and Lady Centrella returned.

"She's a derelict vessel, an Argo, once of only two ever made. For over two hundred years she's been lying on Axylus, a pirate moon in the heart of the Frontier. I want her, and you are going to bring her to me."

Yang spoke up, at least in part to show he wasn't intimidated by nobility even of these towering heights. "And how, exactly, are we supposed to do that? I mean… that's a _big_ ship, and she looks half cannibalized for parts. You could see her ribs in the photo. I'm as enthusiastic about money as the next guy, but I'm a 'Mech Tech, not an aerospace engineer. There's no way I could get that thing flying again."

Lady Centrella turned to him with a smile that would do a shark proud. "Relax, Mr. Virtanen."

Yang visibly shuddered at learning she knew his name.

"I have engineering staff on hand to attend to the Argo. Their leader, Dr. Farah Murad, has built quite a reputation for herself in the Frontier. You will find a JumpShip waiting for you at Alloway. It will carry you to the pirate moon where you will clear a path to the crash site. Dr. Murad and her team will go to work on the derelict, and you will protect them until the work is done. This should be well within your capabilities, Commander Melodan. Do the job well enough and there may be more work waiting for you on your return."

Donavan nodded. For all his talk that the Canopians needed him as much as he needed them, that didn't change the fact that they would never find this good of a deal elsewhere. Of course, that was because this deal was far too good to be true.

"We'll be there."

"Very good. I will forward the contract to Mr. Oliveria. You know Commander, not everyone in the Magistracy agreed with the way you family was maneuvered. Consider this a token of our… regret. Farewell."

The communication cut and Donavan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Sumire was already typing furiously into her portable computer. "Commander, I'm not seeing a moon called Axylus in the Alloway system, or anywhere else, for that matter."

"Just get us to Alloway and we'll see what the Canopians have in mind, Sumire. And let's all keep our fingers crossed on this one."


	7. Capture the Argo

**Chapter 6: Capture the Argo**

**May 5, 3025**

**Alloway, Frontier**

**Deep Space**

Eighteen days. Eighteen days to think long and hard and second-guess every decision he'd made up to this point. Two days to the jump point. Four days waiting for all scheduled passenger ships to arrive, then the almost instantaneous jump, followed by day after day of sublight travel until they reached the arranged meeting point. And, true to her word, Lady Centrella's JumpShip was there waiting for them.

The sight of that JumpShip, more than anything else, made all this really hit home for Donavan. Idling a JumpShip like that, that cost real money, potentially millions of C-bills, dwarfing what they'd paid on their debts. Whatever was going on, the Canopians were deadly serious about it. So why were they using _him_ for all of it?

"Commander to the Command Center, Commander to the Command Center."

Donavan hauled himself up from his bunk and jogged over to ops where Sumire was waiting for him. "What's up?"

"Donavan, we're still about an hour out from the JumpShip, but I wanted a word."

"Shoot."

"Okay." She turned and gestured to the starmap. "This moon we're heading to, it doesn't appear on any of the maps. It's… strange."

Donavan blinked. "Didn't we already know that?"

"It's not that unusual for our master charts to be missing things—we get an updated local chart in each system we visit. What _is_ unusual, _very_ unusual, is for the local charts we just downloaded to not have a moon in their own system. This makes me wonder where we're going and how a JumpShip is going to get us there."

Donavan shrugged helplessly. "Could they have just not found? I don't know what to tell you, Sumire. We're committed to this ride, one way or another."

Sumire grit her teeth, then nodded. "No, this isn't something they just missed—we've been locating moons since before we could travel in space. But I know, we are committed. I guess I… I just wanted to share my worry for a moment."

"Yeah, well, I really appreciate that I'm not the only one thinking about this stuff. So… thanks."

They stood there a moment longer, then Sumire turned back to the controls and Donavan returned to get everyone ready for whatever it was that was coming.

…

Several hours later, they'd learned. Yang, with the rest of the command team in ops, stared at the floor with a decidedly green tinge to his face. "Ugh, that was a rough ride. My stomach is still doing summersaults."

Sumire, for all her complaints of JumpShip motion sickness in civilian life, seemed remarkably unaffected, but that might have been because she was angry enough to ignore her discomfort. "That's because those crazy bastards used a pirate jump point to get us here. If we'd suffered a misjump a sour stomach would be the least of your concerns. The Leopard could have been irreparably mangled. Hell, _we_ could've been turned into paste—the cautionary holovids they show in the Academy were the stuff of nightmares."

Donavan clenched his gut against another wave of nausea. "Okay, we're here. Darius, what have we got?"

Darius grunted, started to stand, then thought better of it. "Right. The ship, the Argo, is still down there where it crashed who knows how long ago, smack dab in the middle of a pirate stronghold. The pirates must have built up around it, because there's not much else I can see that's worth anything in the area. The ship, the stronghold, and everything around them belong to a self-styled bandit queen called Grim Sybil. Her gang is the closest thing Axylus has to a planetary government."

Yang snorted. "Grim Sybil? Is that supposed to be scary? It sounds like the kind of name you'd pick out of a hat."

Donavan cut back in. "Defenses?"

"They're patchy, at best. I don't think they get a lot of visitors, especially if Sumire's right that they've paid off the system government on Alloway to keep them off the books. Still, I'm seeing lots of signs of battle, so the gangs here obviously like to fight each other, so while it's all a mess, there's a _lot_ of it. And the strongest and best maintained seems to be their anti-air defenses. That might be by default – I doubt they target it as they can't have a lot of air power down there. There are some ground-based defenses, but only a little in the way of Battlemechs so far."

Donavan didn't like the sound of that. "Define 'little.'"

Darius shrugged. "I can't put an exact number on it. All I have so far are surface scans to go on. They _might_ be able to field a lance, but if they can it'll be held together with gum and bailing wire."

The Commander rubbed his temples trying to focus. "Any more word on our pirate queen from local channels? I've never heard of her before now."

"Yeah, I hadn't either. Centrella's intel says she mostly stays put on Axylus, but she's got at least a dozen pirate gangs operating under banner in the surrounding systems, so she must have something going for her. The only other thing I've got is that it looks like she was associated with Lady Paula Trevaline, the Pirate Queen of the Tortuga Dominions."

Sumire winced. "A friend of 'Lady Death,' huh? Well, at least we know where she got the pirate queen idea."

Yang rolled his eyes. "Lady Death? Really?"

"You said 'was' Darius—did something happen?"

Darius nodded. "Yeah, it looks like they had a falling out… not terribly surprising, given Trevaline's track record. Sybil managed to survive somehow and she's been here ever since. Oh, I do have her Canopian rap sheet. Apparently our bandit queen has racked up quite a few kills over the years—mostly against merchant and freighter crews, but kills all the same. She likes to get dirty and knows her way around a Battlemech."

Donavan looked up. "Okay, turrets, some tanks, maybe a Battlemech or two. Talk to me about the Argo itself."

"The entire structure is surrounded by radar-guided anti-aircraft guns. Your first priority will be to take down the radar towers so that Sumire can approach the derelict. After you secure the crash site, she'll dock with the Argo and drop of the engineering team. They'll need to come aboard from the JumpShip where they've been waiting on us."

"Yeah," muttered Yang, "and then they'll miraculously get a two-hundred-year-old wreck flying again."

Darius was about to reply, but Donavan forestalled him with a raised hand. "Yang, what's going on? Are you that bothered taking a job from a noble?"

Yang opened his mouth angrily, then paused and shut it again before finally responding. "No, not really. I just think you guys are seriously underestimating the task those engineers are facing and betting that they'll succeed anyways. That ship is _big_, Commander. Say they get the core drive working, and by some miracle the electronics systems still work and connect the bridge to the engine. Say that all goes off without a hitch. If there's not enough juice in the tank, depending on what they're using is fuel, they can't lift off. And even if they've got the fuel and all the electronics word and the drive works, that thing didn't land, it _crashed_, and then was at least partially stripped after that. There's a very high chance the structural integrity is compromised. I'd actually be shocked if it wasn't wasn't—which means when you light off those monster engines the whole thing might just disintegrate around you."

Silence reigned for several long moments. Then Donavan grunted. "Those are good points, Yang. Let's ask 'em about it." He reached over and keyed the com system to their linked JumpShip. "Donavan to Dr. Murad."

A few moments passed until another strong female voice came on the line. "Murad here. Are we ready to get underway? There's a limit to how long we can float out here before they spot us."

"Yes, we're wrapping up here, but we wanted to get a feel for your job before we drop you down there. I think we've got three things we'd like some clarification on. First, what happens if the control systems are shot? Second, what happens if there's not enough fuel to fly? And third, will the thing just fall apart on takeoff?"

"Donavan, was it? We don't' have time for me to explain the entire operation. At some point, you're just going to have to trust that I know what I'm doing. But if it will get us on the ground faster, here's the _very_ short version. We're planning on the control runs and the backups to be completely inoperable and have with us a replacement straight-line system to run between the command module and the engines. It'll be crude, but it's fast and it works. Second, they've been leaching off the auxiliary power for centuries, so the aux batteries are likely drained, but the primary drives still run on hydrogen, and there's enough in the atmosphere to scoop it out of the air as we go. That should get us out of atmosphere, and we have more fuel on the JumpShip once we clear atmo. Finally, the ship integrity _is_ a concern, but we've had the full blueprints of the Argo for months and we know exactly which parts of the ship must be intact and have separate teams for each to weld reinforcing plates in as necessary. It won't be pretty, and it won't last forever, but the simulations give us an eighty percent success rate… assuming you keep the pirates from blowing us all up as soon as we land."

Donavan turned to Yang, who shrugged, then nodded. "Thanks doctor. It sounds like you've thought it all through. We're gearing up now, so get your people ready to start boarding in ten minutes. We'll be detaching in thirty."

"Acknowledged."

The Commander took one more look around. "Well people, let's get this show on the road."

…

Wolf watched the hangar from the inside of the Blackjack while listening in to Sumire's traffic. He rode out the slight vibration as they hit atmosphere and the woman lowered them carefully into a gap in the anti-air coverage a ways from the Argo. The Leopard set down and he disembarked immediately, moving several paces out and settling into the lunar dust with a grimace. He hated fighting in this type of limited atmosphere—it made venting heat a nightmare. Still, it was that hydrogen-rich atmosphere that made lifting off the Argo, and thus the entire mission, even possible, so he couldn't complain too much.

The lance signaled readiness and Sumire rocketed off into the dark. It was around midnight local time in the hope the defenders would be slow off the mark, but he wasn't counting on that. So instead he took one slow breath and said "Go."

They'd practiced as best they could on the Leopard, running through their plan over and over, and they executed it now. Dekker moved out briskly in the newly repaired Spider, keeping low in the cratered surface with sensors probing for the anti-air defenses. "Lead, Dekker, confirming orbital scans—two local radar dishes, marking on net now."

True to his word, the two radar dishes appeared on Wolf's plot. "Execute Plan One."

At his word the team split in two, with Dekker leading Behemoth to radar dish one while Wolf escorted Glitch in the Vindicator to target two. With who knew how many bogies around, their highest priority was speed. The 'Mechs moved quickly, settling into position. "Fire."

The night erupted in eye-searing laser fire smashing into the two targets which crumpled in an almighty screech of metal that must have woken up every living soul within kilometers. The communications channels sparked to life with dozens of encrypted bursts.

"Lead, Dekker, I've got tanks and turrets firing up nearby. The turret power sources aren't well shielded, I'm picking them up, too."

Wolf saw it, too, and winced. The generators were right out int eh open alright, but they were at the top of the pockmarked surface, an open target for everyone in the area. He thought quickly and made a decision. "Behemoth, on me. We'll engage the tanks, then once they're focused on us Dekker and Glitch hit the jets and take out the generator. On my mark, copy."

The acknowledgments came in quickly. "Lance, _mark_."

Behemoth, who'd already been moving towards him, turned as they both opened up the throttle, bringing their medium 'Mechs up to speed, scattering dust with every heavy step. They blitzed up and over a crater's rim and down into the next where they were abruptly surrounded by targets. Tanks, five of them, and turrets all along the ridge. Wolf took a half-second to absorb the sensor scans on scope. A bulldog, strikers and scorpions.

In almost the same instant the Blackjack and Shadowhawk opened up in an explosion of firepower. Lasers, missiles, and autocannons smashed into old, battered tanks at alarmingly close range. The bulldog and one of the strikers burst into flames and they turned their fire on the others, keeping one eye on their rapidly climbing heat levels.

Return laser and SRM fire was coming in now, crunching into ablative armor, and Wolf saw the turrets power up and start tracking them.

A burst of light split the night as Glitch's Vindicator cut loose with its PPC, and the turrets locked in place, no longer tracking.

Wolf sighed in relief just as a scorpion's AC/5 connected near the cockpit. The recoil slammed him back into the command chair and the Blackjack stumbled, but recovered as the stability gyroscope kicked in.

By the time he could start targeting again Glitch and Dekker were descending into the crater, firing as they came as the last tank standing, a scorpion beating a hasty retreat. Yet for all its speed, Dekker was faster, sprinting after it in the agile Spider and touching the jumpjets to keep himself out of the tank's firing arc. A blast from its twin medium lasers punched through and gutted the vehicle.

Donavan gathered himself quickly, taking a look at the plot. No active enemies for the moment, but there was movement all over the place. "Leopard, Wolf. The AA should be down, take a look for yourself and start your approach, we're moving on the crash site."

"Copy Wolf, starting approach."

The Battlemechs reformed quickly and moved out rapidly towards the target in the largest crater around. A fight in there would be at knife-fight range—it would be ugly and quick, but being in Battlemechs should give them a decisive advantage. Probably.

They crested the hill and started their descent into the crash sight and Wolf couldn't help but whistle. He'd known it was big, but _damn_. The thing had obviously come down at least partially under power as it was mostly in one piece. The pirates had opened up some core compartments and built expansion buildings around it which extended around the edge of the crater's rim, looking almost like scaffolding off the Argo's side. Those would either collapse when the Argo lifted, or be incinerated when the engines lit. He tried not to think of all the people inside those things when it happened, and hoped the pirates didn't have any slaves in there, but not time for second thoughts now.

There were no enemies immediately evident, but he didn't think that would last long and spread the lance to screen the most likely approaches. "Leopard, Wolf, you're clear. Get down here."

"En route, Commander. Coming in hot."

The Leopard soared in low and fast, doing its best to be a hard target if they'd missed any defenses. At least four of the Leopard's PPCs fired on approaching, taking out targets beyond the crater and hopefully discouraging them from trying anything. The ship itself settled down just behind the Argo, resting in its protective shadow and giving the engineers and boarding team a short run to the ship.

Wolf tapped into the ground team's channel, keeping an eye on his plot.

Dr. Murad's voice came through clearly. "Alright people, you know what to do. Marines, please clear the ship."

Another voice— "With pleasure, ma'am."

"Lead, Dekker, more targets coming over the north ridge. Two tanks and three, repeat, three light Battlemechs."

"Lance, spread out and keep your firing lanes clear. I'll dictate targets, concentrate all firepower. Put them down fast."

Even as he finished speaking the three light 'Mechs powered over the ridge, a Commando, a Jenner, and a Locust, flanked by Scorpion and Galleon tanks. Wolf had no idea how a Commando had made its way all the way out to the periphery, but it was built like a giant shotgun, packing a surprisingly big SRM punch but with little range or defense. The Jenner, too, was far from home in the Draconis Combine, but packed a hefty punch at the sacrifice of running hot, and the Locust was mostly an anti-personnel 'Mech. Wolf pinged the Jenner and opened up on it in a full alpha strike with the entire lance.

An avalanche of missiles, autocannon shells, and lasers crunched into the light 'Mech, absolutely shredding the armor and blowing off an arm, when Glitch's PPC connected dead center. The super-heated weapon cooked off at least a ton of SRM ammo and the entire 'Mech exploded from the inside, sending shrapnel into the Commando and Locust.

Focusing fire had proven very effective, but it came at a cost—the Commando was completely free to leap into combat and it unloaded a full salvo of SRMs into the Vindicator, shredding armor and damaging its left leg. The Locust was sprinting off towards the Spider, opening up with its machine gun and sole medium laser against the only target it could hope to take down.

Wolf pivoted the Blackjack. "Glitch, jump, everyone else take the Commando."

Glitch hit the jumpjets and corkscrewed skyward, almost impossible to hit, while Wolf and Behemoth rained fire down on the Commando. It buckled but didn't go down as Glitch had completely overheated and Dekker was locked in a duel with the Locust.

Heat warnings blared and Wolf eased off the lasers, continuing to strafe the Commando with his AC/2's while circling. The Blackjack shuddered and Wolf grunted against the restraints as the tanks opened fire on his exposed rear. He trusted in his armor and kept moving. Behemoth in the heavier Shadowhawk moved in close while the Commando turned to target Glitch again and rammed the smaller 'Mech from behind, bodily tipping it over in a shriek of metal on metal, then stepped on the Commando's cockpit, crushing it. "Target down."

Wolf turned to the tanks, but they were frantically retreating back over the hill, and he glanced at the plot. Dekker was forming back up with no sign of the Locust, but he'd taken a beating doing it—his armor was shredded in at least two places.

"Murad, this is Wolf. How are you doing?"

The landing team's coms were in chaos. "…Murad, the pirates have Alpha Squad pinned down in the main hallway. Bravo Squad is holding the doors to engineering, but you'd better—" The words cut off with the sound of an explosion.

"Sergeant? Talk to me!"

Well, shit. He flipped channels again. "Alright lance, keep your eyes open. We could be here a while."

"Wolf, this is Murad. Are you still there?"

"Murad, Wolf. We're here. How are you?"

"A little busy. The pirates are dead, but so are half of my engineers." The sound of banging and cursing echoed loudly on her end. "It's an unholy mess in here, bodies everywhere."

"Dr., we're still in one piece out here, but I can't say for how long—call it. Can you do it, or do we abort?"

Silence on her end for a long moment, then— "We can do it, Commander. Give me as much time as you can."

Decker cut back on the lance channel. "Lead, Dekker, two more BattleMechs, and close. A Shadowhawk and a heavy, reading as a Quickdraw."

Wolf swore quietly. The Quickdraw was not the particularly well thought of design, with heat buildup issues and difficulty standing toe-to-toe with other heavies, but it packed a devastating punch at close range. How they managed to keep the thing working in these conditions he had no idea, but it couldn't be in that good of shape… could it? He frowned over the plot, trying to get a better picture.

Another communication was coming in the clear. "You think you're gonna steal my ship you miserable little scrubs? Nobody steals from—"

Wolf disconnected the transmission. "Lance, both of those 'Mechs are junk, it looks like what little armor they have is bolted on. Hit the heavy with whatever you've got left."

The Quickdraw crested the hill and lasers and autocannon rounds ripped out to meet her, but she was quick off the mark and didn't lack for courage—the pirate leaned on her jumpjets hard, sending most of the fire at her wide to impact harmlessly into the gray dirt, and leaped towards Behemoth's Shadowhawk, set on eliminating their heaviest 'Mech first.

"Dekker, distract their Shadowhawk!" spat Wolf quickly as he hauled on the controls, turning the Blackjack around. The Quickdraw rotated its signature hyper-extending actuators to fire its full salvo of lasers and SRMs into Behemoth even as she soared past, tearing deep into its armor and doing something bad to one of the Shadowhawk's legs.

The Quickdraw landed heavily, staggering slightly as its delicate ankle joins strained against he load. "Lance, the ankles, cripple her!" He followed his own advice, opening up with a laser salvo that once again shot his heat readings into critical, and was gratified to see Glitch following suit and back in the fight. Her PPC rammed home, making the entire Quickdraw shake, but while their fire crashed into the Quickdraw's lower legs, nothing hit the actuators themselves, and the they help up to the strain.

Behemoth was already too close for that kind of aimed fire, and more importantly, the Quickdraw had completely slagged her AC/5, leaving her with no choice but to close in, firing her SRM2 non-stop. Both 'Mechs swung fists simultaneously with devastating power.

The Quickdraw's larger arm crunched into the lighter Shadowhawk's side, snapping its arm clean off at the elbow. The Shadowhawk connected center mass, mangling one of the lasers and rocking the might machine backwards. Its gyros quickly compensated to keep the 'Mech upright, but the sudden strain at last proved too much for the shoddily maintained ankles, buckling one and shearing the other in two.

The pilot desperately tried to compensate by taking a step back, but it was too little, too late, and the beast toppled over backwards with an almighty thud. Behemoth stepped on its chest, destroying its other lasers, and the cockpit erupted as the pirate queen ejected… or tried to.

The emergency hatch failed to open, whether through mechanical failure or sabotage Wolf neither knew nor cared, and the command chair instead splattered into Riese-475 battle armor.

Wolf turned and saw the Shadowhawk withdrawing, but leaving an incapacitated 'Mech in its wake. As fast as the Spider was, eventually the Shadowhawk had gotten a piece of him, destroying one leg outright and mangling the other.

"Dekker, respond."

…

"Behemoth, your 'Hawk has good hands. Go grab the Spider and haul him back to the Argo. Glitch, you and I cover and back up towards the ship. That may be our only way out now."

"Copy, Commander." Glitch sounded grim, her usual jovial self gone.

Glitch and Wolf backed towards the Argo's open landing bay, following Behemoth and the damaged Spider. Wolf couldn't help but wince at the sight. The Shadowhawk did, indeed, have an unusually advanced manipulative hands, which Shadowhawk pilots would never shut up about, but they were far from precision instruments, and huge chunks of metal tore off the already ruined leg systems as Behemoth bodily dragged the delicate, irreplaceable 'Mech across the ground, leaving a huge trail of ground dirt behind it.

To make matters worse, without the Spider's advanced Star-League era sensor suite they were left to rely on their own, more primitive systems, and ominously fuzzy blips were moving around just outside the crash site crater.

"Murad, Wolf. We're down half our firepower out here. How are we doing?"

"Almost there, Wolf! Just another few minutes!"

"Copy." He thought rapidly, taking in the lance status board they'd jerry-rigged into he Blackjack as a makeshift command unit. "Behemoth, you're shot to hell. Hold the entrance and stay behind cover, hit whatever targets you pull from our sensor with your LRMs. Glitch, you're out with me, but keep it close to the ship; I don't like the look of your leg. I've got the most armor left, so I'll try to slow them down."

Behemoth chuckled into her mic. "You going lone wolf on us again, Wolf?"

He managed a ghost of a smile at the old joke. "Someone's gotta do it. Watch my back." He moved out at an easy pace, trying to keep himself a moving target more than trying to cover round. He kept the thinner back armor, already battered, towards the Argo and took stock. He was down to six shots a piece with the autocannons, but the heat levels had dropped enough to bring his four lasers back into play. He considered a moment, then linked them two-and-two to keep heat down.

"Boss, two o'clock."

He rotated the torso and sighted two armored personnel carriers, immediately followed by four more tanks. Their formation was shaky, and he made a snap decision, opening the throttle and charging directly at them. His laser pairs lit up, destroying the APC's while scattered return fire came back at him. A cluster of SRM's went wide, but two Scorpion AC/5's hammered into him, penetrating deep into his armor, and then he was on top of them. They panicked, scattering while the faster BattleMech stomped on one, then another.

A short spray of LRM's from Behemoth knocked another off its treads.

"Wolf, it's done! I can't believe it—it really worked! The engines are online and I have thrust control."

Wolf turned and opened up the throttle, working the Blackjack up into a sprint over a dozen strides. He kept the torso slightly rotated, limiting the line of fire on his vulnerable back as more autocannon and laser fire sizzled past him. The Blackjack shuddered as some of that fire hit home, and warning lights lit up across the console—that last one hit something important. LRM's tore back, followed by a PPC shot from Glitch as they covered his retreat, and something behind him exploded, but more fire was still coming in.

"Get aboard and brace, we're taking off." The others cleared the doorway as he approached and he stormed through the opening, slowing the Blackjack as abruptly as he dared. "We're in, go!"

In answer the entire ship began to shake as an earth-shattering rumble marked the engines lighting up. Wolf wedged the Blackjack between a wall and a core support beam as the Argo began to move for the first time in centuries. Dust cascaded from every surface, and outside the pirate structure attached to the ship cracked and shifted, tearing free, and often taking chunks of starship with it.

The primary drive fired and something like a full city block of pirate shantytown simply disintegrated. And then all Wolf could do was hold on as the ship bucked wildly, with steel beams, even entire compartments shaking loose and rattling around, banging off the BattleMech and falling through two holes in the outer structure back to the surface below.

The chaos seemed to go on for hours, but eventually the vibrations slowed and the rumble cut off to the silence of space.

"Lance, status report."

"Wolf, Behemoth. I've taken a beating but I'm mostly in one piece."

"Wolf, Glitch, apart from a twisted leg, I'm fine."

…

"Any word on Dekker, Behemoth?"

"No. The cockpit is intact, but he was almost at full speed when he lost the leg. A hit that hard, maybe he made it, maybe he didn't."

"First priority is to get the Spider back to the Leopard and have Yang and the medical team pull him out of there, but for now we wait until we're linked up with the JumpShip."


	8. Buyout

**Chapter 7: Buyout**

**May 6, 3025**

**Alloway, Frontier**

**Deep Space**

The next hours drug by painfully slowly as the surviving engineering crew thoroughly checked and rechecked the maneuvering thrusters and triple checked the docking seals before starting the final approach to the jump ship. And each our, each minute, the image of Dekker helplessly bleeding out in that cockpit while he was powerless to do anything about it haunted him. Even if the engineering crews were willing, the Argo's integrity was shot – that was hard vacuum outside the cockpit, and Dekker wasn't wearing a pressure-suit.

Finally his com board lit up with a signal and Lady Centrella once more appeared in front of him. He considered his appearance grimly for a moment—he'd been in the cockpit for just over six hours, sweating it out on the surface and now shivering against the cold of space. Not his best to be verbally sparring with an extremely powerful noble.

"Your performance was exemplary, Commander. I'll be certain to ensure the upper echelons of Magistracy high command hear about your skills."

He pushed down his temper and forced himself to speak civilly. The chance to speak to someone with her resources and access to information was exceptionally rare, and not something he could afford to waste, even now. "That would be appreciated, Lady Centrella. I'm sure you understand my focus now is on my pilots and our 'Mechs, but perhaps you can satisfy my curiosity and tell me what this is all about. Because whatever it is, it _isn't _about the Argo."

Lady Centrella smiled. "Well, you have been a good man." An insult, coming from a Canopian. "It's not _entirely_ about the ship, Commander. Alloway is a single jump from Joppa, which is a trade hub and one of only two mapped starlanes into the Magistracy rimward of Cassilda. The pirates have been causing us issues, but if we were to step up our military presence nearby the Capellans might feel provoked, shall we say. On the other hand, it's perfectly understandable to investigate word of a pitched battle in the system without raising suspicion… or explaining how we found the moon. I'm sure we'll locate a 'fleeing' pirate happy to tell our cleanup team all about it. They should be arriving shortly."

Donavan sighed. "Mercenaries as a deniable asset, that's common enough. But why _us?_ Why me, specifically? I'm as self-important as the next man, I'm sure, but I _am_ aware that there are a number of competent, better armed mercenaries well within your reach. Perhaps they would only increase the likelihood of success a few percentage points, but with the amount of money committed to this, the higher rate of pay would be nothing."

"Because you were on trial, Commander. For what, I'm afraid it's not my place to say, but expect to hear from us again."

She cut the channel and Donavan sighed, mentally bracing himself for the delicate, nerve-shredding task of shuttling the fundamentally clumsy, 45 ton machine through zero-gravity out of the floating debris-field that was the Argo and into the narrow entrance of the Leopard's 'Mech Bay.

…

Twenty-four hours after the Argo connected with the Magistracy jumpship and Donavan was back in ops, having slept, showered, and eaten. The follow-up Canopian forces had jumped into the system on _another _jumpship and mounted an impressive assault on what was left of the pirates. They were followed up by a salvage team, after which the whole force jumped out again shortly thereafter, but here they still waited on endless checks to make sure the Argo they'd worked so hard to secure would survive the jump.

Normally Donavan would have resented the delay, but not this time. He looked up as a short, fearsome-looking woman with hair tied back and a white coat stepped into ops.

"Dr. Harrin, how is he?" Dr. Herrin, whom Donavan wouldn't dream of calling by her given ma e of Kit, looked across the room's occupants with exactly zero insecurity. She'd been with the Leopard since before the Aurigan Reach, and that was the full extent of his knowledge of her.

"He's alive, but in bad shape. He's broken his left arm and leg, as well as at least two ribs. We've reset the limbs, but he has yet to regain consciousness—I strongly suspect he has a major concussion, and possibly brain damage. Assuming there is no other brain trauma, he will be out of action for at least a month, more likely two."

"But other than the mental side, you expect a full recovery?"

"Physically, yes, but mentally? Even if his brain suffered no further physical trauma, it's far too early to predict the psychological effects of an injury this severe, but there is a significant chance he will never pilot a BattleMech again."

Donavan suppressed a shudder and nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Harrin. Please let me know if you need anything."

She nodded to Donavan and left without another word. Donavan, for his part, couldn't help but worry about Dekker. The Capellan ex-soldier was his pilot, his responsibility, and beyond that, he was a fine pilot and rock of professionalism, an important stabilizing influence among the MechWarriors.

Then he noticed everyone watching him and abruptly realized his responsibilities stretched further than just the pilots these days, and gave himself a mental shake. "Right. Yang, we got pretty banged up out there—how are we looking?"

Yang already looked exhausted. "Boss, it 'aint good. The Spider's a wreck without replacement parts, and you know how hard those are to find even in the Inner Sphere, and it's gonna take weeks, maybe more than a month, to make good on the others. To get to the internals we're gonna have to strip off all the armor, then fix 'em up, then replace the weapon systems, then replace the armor with whatever we've got left. The good news is, the Magistracy people really cleaned hose down there and they left us a cut of the salvage. Replacing the 'Hawk's AC/5 and your medium lasers should be no problem, and they loaded us up with ammunition."

Donavan nodded. "I expected about that, though that's good news about the ammunition. We'll be travelling for a while—the Magistracy is going to drop us off near Lyreton, and that's a ways away."

Yang frowned. "Lyreton? That's mighty close to the Aurigan Directorate and the Capellan Confederation, isn't it?"

"It is—but that should translate to better contracts, too, not to mention more available spare parts."

Yang shrugged. "Can't argue with that."

"Alright, Darius, how are we looking?"

Alone among the command crew, Darius looked energized and upbeat. "Good, Commander. The Magistracy was as good as their word, and they paid off all our loan interest. For those of you that interested, that's a _lot_ of dough. And to keep us afloat to enjoy it, they paid a flat fee of one million C-bills. That should let us get our legs back under us."

Donavan managed a smile. Darius had really come through for them. "Nice job. Tell me about Lyreton. Any ideas why we're headed there? You'd think the Canopians would want their new toy deep in Magistracy space."

The XO shrugged. "Hard to say. Lyreton _is_ known for its shipyards, but Yang's right—they're independent, technically, but heavily associated with the Capellans to coreward and are right on the edge of Aurigan space to spinward. I guess the Magistracy might have cut a deal with the Confederation to fix up their ship, and if so that might mean tensions are finally winding down. Still, it's hard to say what the Capellans get out of it."

Donavan sat back in his beat-up but comfortable chair. "Alright people, we took a beating down there, but we made some real progress on our financial situation and we've got a couple weeks to burn, so let's get that salvage catalogued and take a bit of a break from operations until we arrive. Dismissed."

**May 19, 3025**

**Lyreton, Frontier**

**Deep Space**

Everyone was ready for some shore leave by the time the Magistracy jumpship shifted into real space a few days outside of Lyreton. Too many days packed into the Leopard had everyone going a little stir crazy. Still, they hadn't been idle during that time. They'd claimed significant chunks of the pirate's Shadowhawk on top of the weapons and ammo as their claim of the salvage from the raid. They could _almost_ build one from scratch at this rate, though that process would likely take months without more space and support gear than could possibly be squeezed into the already-packed Leopard.

And they'd come up with a name. Donavan had gone to visit Dekker the moment he'd heard the pilot had woken up. "Heard you went lone wolf on us again Commander." Donavan had shaken his head. "Nope, I had you guys as backup."

"Yeah, a whole pack of wolves." And thus, Donavan's Wolves were born.

As they were preparing to finally detach and get flying under their own power, however, they received a surprise call. "Congratulations once again, all of you. Now, you have a visitor who's been patiently waiting for your arrival. I'm sure you'll find something to talk about."

Lady Centrella dropped the image, keeping open only the cheaper audio channel, and the Commander of the newly minted Donavan's Wolves could only shrug. And not sixty seconds later the boarding hatch to the jumpship blinked in requested access, Lady Centrella's image returned, and the hatch slid open to reveal—

Donavan's jaw about hit the floor. There before him stood Lady Kamea Arano, looking fit and regal in a carefully tailored red uniform. "Hello again, Donavan… or should I say, Commander Melodan? I'm happy to see you again. You've done well for yourself. The old man would be pleased. And you've recovered the Argo, a seemingly impossible feat, and one that will pay great dividends in the future. I have to admit, I was skeptical that you could pull it off. I can't tell you how happy I am to be proven wrong."

Donavan by this point had recovered enough to get his brain working again, and it was going into overdrive. He jumped to his feet and gave a half-bow. "Forgive me, Lady Arano, this is… one hell of a surprise."

Darius, too, was on his feet, though Yang remained stubbornly seated. Lady Centrella far outranked Lady Arano, but courtesies were much more important in person than over a call, where every wasted moment was expensive. "I'll say. Lady Arano, the news feeds ran footage of your DropShip getting blown out of the sky for months!"

For the first time Donavan noticed another man at Kamea's back dressed in a fashionable and expensive-looking blue coat with a green scarf that mostly covered what looked like some nasty burns on his neck. The man glanced at Lady Kamea, who gave an approving nod, and he stepped forward a half-pace. "If you don't recall, Commander, I am Alexander Madeira. And to answer your implied question, Mr. Oliveria, that wasn't our DropShip. What you saw was Directorate propaganda. Lies."

Donavan let out a low whistle. "That's one hell of a risk for them to run."

Kamea nodded. "Correct. And they very nearly _became_ true. The Directorate's assassins pursued us into the Frontier. In the months that followed we had more than our share of close calls. Eventually they gave up looking for us."

"If I may ask, where were you?"

Alexander winced. "As far from Directorate space as we could get without leaving the Frontier. A miserable little ball of rock called Zathras. It was a nasty, brutish planet full of strife and turmoil… there were power struggles and mad nobles, plagues and zealots and holy wars."

Yang snorted. "So you're saying it was a typical Frontier world."

Donavan shot him a look, and he shrugged.

Lady Kamea sighed. "Unfortunately, he is right. Living on Coromodir I heard stories about the problems many Frontier systems face, but I was distracted. I never saw how rough life outside the Aurigan Coalition could get. My uncle's coup changed everything… including me."

Donavan's head was still spinning at the implications of Kamea's survival. Zathra was smack dab between the Free World's League and the Magistracy, next door to Hastur where he'd grown up, and he was keenly aware of the political tension such a situation entailed. So small wonder that the Magistracy had scooped her up and backed her. But why? Destabilizing the Reach might keep the Capellan's outer flanks secured. Was that their angle? Fix up the Argo for the Canopians and in exchange they bankroll a potential civil war so the Capellans could focus elsewhere? There were too many possibilities at this point. He needed more information.

"So, my Lady, it seems clear to me that you are working with the Magistracy and asked that we recover the Argo—may I ask why?"

Kamea gestured to Alexander, who answered. "in part as a test of your abilities, to make sure your performance on Coromodir wasn't a fluke. Our experience in the coup has taught us to be careful, Commander. We couldn't just reach out to you on faith."

"And you have little political capital to spend on something you're not sure of."

"I'm glad you understand these things, Commander."

Lady Kamea jumped back in. "And you passed that test, Donavan. So now we can tell you that the Argo is perhaps just as important. She isn't just a ship-she's a symbol of reclamation, of rebirth, and the return to better days. You'll see for yourself soon enough—under Dr. Murad's care, she will be majestic once again, and serve as my mobile command center."

"As you say, my Lady… but what comes next?"

"I imagine you've already guessed. I intend to seek justice for my uncle's crimes. I intend to take my throne back. But I can't do it without you."

Donavan blinked. That was a major admission… and a surprising one.

Lord Madeira explained. "We have resources. The Magistracy is providing finances, and with it we've raised an army drawn from all across the Frontier. We have a symbol that we reclaimed, ostensibly without the Magistracy's help."

"The Magistracy is _openly_ backing you?" He glanced at Lady Centrella's image, but she gave away nothing, and Lady Kamea quickly continued.

"No—Lady Centrella is acting as intermediary, so it remains, at least somewhat, a personal venture rather than an official policy. It also allows us to maintain our independence."

Donavan, thankfully, managed not to roll his eyes at that. As if the Magistracy would allow that sort of activity without at least the tacit approval of the crown. _Still, _he reminded himself with another glance at Lady Centrella, _they're saying it to her as to me, or likely even more to her than to me. _Well, if he could say it with a straight face, then Donavan would listen in kind.

Lady Kamea nodded. "Understand that this is to both sides' advantage. The Periphery is, as the ancient saying, a powder keg. Tensions between the Taurian Concordat and the Federate Suns are high, and my uncle's military posturing could be viewed as a provocation by either side. If open conflict between the superpowers should reignite it would be difficult for anyone to remain neutral. The third succession war appears to at last be winding down, and they want to avoid a renewal of the conflict, and backing my claim should keep the major powers out of the Periphery."

Donavan had some doubts about that line of reasoning, but elected to keep them to himself for the moment. Darius met Donavan's eyes for a long moment, questions passing between them, then the XO turned back to Lady Kamea.

"So, if I have this right, you're the best choice for a clean solution. They fill your war chest, you keep the Directorate focused anti-spinward on you to avoid a flare-up to spinward and eventually take them off the board, and the Magistracy lets tensions between the Federate Suns and the Taurians simmer down on their own. Am I reading that right, Lady Arano?"

Donavan glanced at the still-open channel to Lady Centrella, who returned his gaze steadily. This whole line of thought was shaped by Lady Arano's perspective. Her concern as limited to whether it would be in the Magistracy's interest to let her stay on the throne if she won, but he knew the Magistracy better than that. They had just as many plans for failure as they did for success.

"Correctly enough, Mr. Oliveira. But understand that this isn't just about defusing a dangerous situation. For me, taking on the Directorate is personal."

That was… well, obvious. And just as obviously, to him at least, was that the Magistracy knew it. So… did this Alexander Madeira see how blinded she was? Or was he just as blind? For whatever political expertise he was supposed to have, he hadn't seen the coup coming. Or were they both just putting on a show for Lady Centrella? It was impossible to know.

Meanwhile, Lady Arano was still talking. "My uncle _betrayed_ me. The Found Council has been reduced to a handful of powerless figureheads. Our _very identity_ has been cut away and discarded. House Espinosa is long overdue for a reckoning, and with your helped I will bring them one. Join with me, Donavan, and we will not fail."

Donavan forced himself not to glance at Lady Centrella as his mind raced. He needed to distance himself from this, to be _hired_, not recruited, but you never talked money with a high lord or lady. By the same token, he couldn't afford to say not, not with Lady Centrella obviously supporting the venture, and especially now that he knew the secret of Lady Arano's survival. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry at that thought, and chose his words with care.

"Your cause is honorable, Lady Arano. The financial terms will be worked out, but the Wolves are at your disposal."

Lady Arano favored him with a small nod. If she was disappointed, she didn't show it. "Good." Of course, you cannot wage war on my behalf while your travel restrictions remain in place, so I shall remove them. Now that you are committed to me, I will buy your company's debts—all of them. You will continue to be free to travel and seek clients as you please, so long as you come to me when I call. And on the day that I reclaim my throne, your obligation will be forgiven, your debt wiped clean. I am also told that one of your 'Mechs was severely damaged, possibly permanently. We will provide you with a Centurion as a replacement."

She nodded to Alexander to continue, done speaking of anything related to money.

"Of course, you will also be paid for every battle you fight at Lady Arano's behest, at a rate that will feel quite generous, given the clientele that you're accustomed to."

They were looking at him, waiting for him to say something. "Ah, we look forward to working for you and avenging Sir Raju."

"Thank you, Commander Melodan. I fell that Raju is smiling down on us, even now. I take my leave—I have an army to rally and preparations to make, but it won't be long before I contact you again… and when I do, you must be ready. Prepare yourselves. Our war is about to begin."

She turned to go and Donavan finally permitted himself to look at Lady Centrella, eyebrows raised. She simply smiled and her image winked out.

Twenty minutes later and he was in the cockpit with Sumire and Darius, the most politically savvy members of the team, each of them digesting the seismic shifts in Periphery politics. For his part, Donavan was still wrapping his head around it. Lady Arano's analysis was fine, but only as far as it went. She was probably right that the Magistracy would let her stay on the throne if she won, but Donavan was keenly aware that the Magistracy made a lot of plans that bet on you _not_ succeeding.

"So, what do you think?"

Sumire, as always, cut straight to the point. "There's more to this than they're saying, obviously. The real question is, why us? By which I mean, why _you?_"

Donavan nodded. "That's my question, too. I've been thinking about it a lot over the past couple weeks with nothing to do, and I've got a couple ideas. You all heard them talk – they're afraid to trust anybody, even Lady Centrella. They're probably paranoid living on the run for a while. If there's anyone she can be sure _isn't_ going to turn her over to the Directorate, it's me, since I was there and they damn near killed me as I helped her get away in the first place. And maybe as a reminder to Kamea that it was the Magistracy that sent me over in the first place, part of the reason she's still alive."

Sumire gave him a look. "I'm not sure that's enough. For the money they've spent on us, they could hire someone with a lot more weight in metal than us. Trust or not, they _are_ starting a war."

Darius shrugged. "Yeah, but the bigger and more well-known, the less anonymity you have. If you hire the Big Mac, there aren't that many potential backers. And, though it kinda hurts to admit, any mercenary with a reputation is going to be pretty hesitant to start up a rebellion against one of few reliable employers out here. At least to start, they _have_ to rely on nobodies like us, and it's just a bonus that we have nothing to lose with our name being blacklisted by the Directorate."

Donavan leaned back in his chair with a frown. "Good points, both of you, but I think we're missing something. We're thinking too small. What is the Magistracy really getting out of this? They're rich, but they're not _that_ rich—they have a real objective here."

Darius shrugged. "Just keeping the Directorate busy? Everyone knows the Magistracy was friendly with the Aranos."

"By kicking off a civil war?" returned Sumire. "The Magistracy has to deal with the Inner Sphere—anything that keeps their flank _secure_ is what they're after, not filling all unclaimed space with pirates and deserters."

Donavan chewed on his lip, a nasty thought forming. "What if they're not after a war at all?"

Darius looked at him quizzically. "How could they not be if they're bankrolling it?"

"Are they, though? They're put a lot of money into recovering the Argo, and in buying up our debt. SO, what have they actually given Lady Arano? A mercenary company that's small and, to be frank, not that useful in a pitched battle scenario that a civil war is bound to produce. Plus, thanks to our debt, we're actually pretty expensive, so she's not going to be inclined to waste her expensive new toy."

"That _is _a nasty thought." Sumire frowned. "So they're what, holding her out as leverage against the Directorate, threatening to expose their lies, while she pokes at them with her pet mercs?"

"And if she tries to start anything too aggressive, they can pull us away—they're the ones that bought our debt, whatever Lady Arano says."

Darius whistled. "That's brutal. A pawn of the Magistracy, huh? I wonder how much she knows?"

"Hard to say. Lady Arano seems a decent sort, but our concern right now isn't what her future holds – it's what this means for us. Above all, we know that Lady Arano is alive, which is one of the Magistracy's most important diplomatic cards at the moment, so until that card is played the Canopians aren't going to let us go anywhere. On the other hand, they're probably not going to squish us on a whim, either. If we're supposed to keep Lady Arano distracted from making any actual moves, then we'll probably be busy, but Arano wants us in one piece as her single heavy element, and the Magistracy wants us in one piece or they lose all the money they spent on us. So I think we'll see some action, but they won't put us into anything over our heads. Deliberately, anyway."

"So… we keep going?"

Donavan nodded. "Not much else we can do at this point. The good news is, Arano's going to want as big of a stick as she can get away with, so she'll probably push to have us paid as much as she can. That gives us a chance to rebuild. After that, we just hope for the best."

…

High Lady Kamea Arano only relaxed when the hatch to her union dropship, dubbed the _Cormorant_, and the only Aurigan asset she'd managed to hold onto, was sealed behind her. Beside her, Lord Madeira's shoulders relaxed as well as they walked past the honor guard in House Arano colors and into her private conference room.

"Well, my Lady, do you think it worked?"

"Please, Alexander. When we're not in public, it's Kamea."

The man gave her a crooked smile. "As you wish, Kamea. So… do you think they bought it?"

"The Magistracy or the mercenaries?"

He chuckled. "I admit, I am _slightly_ more concerned about the reaction from the Magistracy."

Her smiled faded. "It's hard to know. The Magistracy has been playing this game for a lot longer than we have. It's entirely possible that they know what we're doing and are letting us do it anyways. But from everything I can see, they seem to think that we're content to use our fancy new ship and handful of mercenaries to stage a raid or two and feel good about ourselves."

"So… we continue?"

She nodded. "If this is the only card we have to play, then we play it as best we can."


	9. Opening Shot

**Chapter 8: Opening Shot**

**May 22, 3025**

**Bellifant, 2****nd**** moon of Lyreton**

**Porstmouth – Capital City**

High above in the bright blue sky was Lyreton, a massive gas giant that dominated the system, orbited by numerous moons captured by the stupendous gravity well. Three of those moons, including this one, were occupied with endlessly bickering locals. The Magistracy wouldn't let them detach until the Argo was well out of sensor range, then they were left to their own devices with a stripped-down Centurion and over a million C-Bills. They'd set off for this, the closest occupied moon, and Donavan had ordered some desperately needed shore leave.

That was what he was supposed to be enjoying right now. He sat at a small white-painted bar right on the beach, short dark hair still wet from his swim, sipping on a drink and tapping through data screens on a laptop looking through pilot applications. Most 'Mech Warriors, like Donavan, owned their own BattleMech at least quasi-legally, and commanded a hefty salary used to maintain it. But then, down at the bottom of the page, were the desperate—the dispossessed. 'Mech Warriors who had lost their 'Mechs one way or another.

With the new Centurion, and especially at the rate of injuries they were taking, they could use another pilot, but even with their new cash, the best they could likely afford was a dispossessed. He frowned at the screen and set aside his drink.

Aaron Brislbeth, a very down-on-her-luck Capellan noble. A bad combination, that—the Capellan nobility's sense of superiority combined with desperation. Pass.

Elise Rain, ex-Aurigan soldier, shot her way out of the coup but lost her 'Mech in the process. Labeled a deserter by the Directorate. Not especially experienced, but a clean record otherwise. If he had to guess, she probably hadn't been hired to avoid pissing off the neighbors. Hmm… qualified in both light and medium 'Mechs, though actual piloting experience limited to the Stinger, the Wasp, and (briefly) the Chameleon, the classic training 'Mech.

She sounded perfect. No matter what he did, the Directorate wouldn't like him—even more so now that he knew that _they_ knew that Lady Arano was still alive, so her being on their shit list just drove down the hire price as far as he was concerned. Still, he'd look through all the options, then probably sleep on it, before making any decisions.

The wooden slats creaked, and Donavan looked up to see Darius, who took two steps over and settled down on the neighboring chair. Unlike his Commander, the O was in his normal attire of 'Mech jockey jacket over blue crew-necked shirt with dark pants. His lone concession to the tropical climate's sweltering humidity was a pair of loose sandals on his feet.

"Darius, look at you, you're going positively native on me." He eyed the sandals.

Darius kept his expression completely straight. "Sorry, Commander. I'll try to live up to your standards of constant professionalism." He didn't even glance at Donavan's swim trunks.

Donavan snorted. "Touché. So what brings you to me instead of enjoying the surf and local, ah, companionship opportunities?"

The man shrugged. "One payday doesn't mean we're out of the woods yet, though it's a lot better first step than I could've hoped for."

"True enough. What have you got for me?"

"I think you'll like it. The locals are locked in a three-way power struggle, but with their common Capellan ties they don't much like outsiders, and they _really_ don't like outsiders that poke their noses in, and it seems that's what the Directorate is doing. From what I hear, they've been throwing some money around and making some aggressive patrols with 'Mech lances. The powers that be here on Bellifant are sick of it and they want to send a message that they're not welcome here."

Donavan tapped absently on the counter, thinking. "And how do they want this message delivered?"

"Well, given how strong-arm the Directorate's been I think they want to avoid a direct confrontation, hence the contract. They know where the Aurigans are going to patrol—and we jump them."

"How exactly does that send a message? That sounds more like a mugging than a political point."

Darius smiled. "That's the beauty of it. They're 'patrolling' right through the local defense network."

"So when we stride through to engage and they just stan around watching, they'll show how they feel without lifting a finger." The Commander considered it for a long moment. It sounded about right—the Capellans were an Inner Sphere power, strong enough to stomp on the Magistracy of Canopus, much less the Aurigan Directorate, but they were also the smallest of the Inner Sphere powers and they'd taken some major defeats in straight-up fights, which turned the autocratic state the art of subterfuge. Now, Lyreton wasn't officially in the Confederation, but their influence was widely felt this close to their borders, enough that they might be willing to thumb their nose at the Directorate this way.

"Okay, that's got some potential. Anything else?"

Darius shrugged. "Nothing in the same pay scale. There was a small raid to torch some buildings, uh, escort duty for a military parade, and a two-week stint filling in for a short-handed garrison running training exercises, and then—"

"Now _that_ sounds interesting. Darius, it's a great opportunity you found with that run at the Directorate, and a great way to make a name for ourselves, but it's my job to think about our pilots and the state of our 'Mechs, and we got the crap kicked out of us on that last mission. Yang's just got his hands on some parts down here and we're a ways from being back to one hundred percent, not to mention arming the Centurion and finding someone to fight her. Plus, this would be a great chance to have a shakedown assignment with whatever new pilot we pick up. And who knows, maybe the job will still be open when we've gotten ourselves back together again."

Darius grimaced, then nodded. "I get it, Commander. I was there when the Marauders didn't get a chance to rebuild on Coromodir, I know what happens when you get pushed too far. So, you have a new pilot in mind?"

**May 22, 3025**

**Bellifant, 2****nd**** moon of Lyreton**

**Porstmouth – Capital City**

Donavan broke the news in the team's hotel room they'd converted into their temporary HQ, and nobody walked out, so that was a good start. "So, that's what we're going to be doing for the next two weeks while the 'Mechs get put back together again. This will be a good opportunity to work with our newest pilot, Elise Rain. Go ahead and introduce yourself, Elise."

The team turned as one to look at a pale-skinned woman in her mid-thirties, whose green eyes stared back at them expressionlessly. After a moment she spoke up, her voice dour. "I'm Elise Rain, callsign Sunshine. Don't ask."

She didn't seem to want to offer anything else, so Donavan jumped back in. "Elise was run out of the Reach during the coup, like the rest of us. She'll be piloting the Centurion for us during this two-week stint, and if things go well, she'll be staying on with us long-term. Our assignment starts tomorrow morning, so report to the Leopard at 0900 local time."

The meeting broke up with some grumbling, but nobody was talking out about it, at least not yet. He eyed his pilots carefully. Glitch looked as upbeat as ever and considerably tanner than usual as she took advantage of the sun. Lyreton hosted some fine medical institutions, but Dekker was already through the hard part, so he remained confined Leopard, though he went out for closely supervised walks, so he was absent. Medusa looked bored, if anything, but Behemoth looked upset, even angry, though she didn't say a word as she walked out.

Problems, problems.

…

"Alright lance, this is going to be a straightforward exercise as our first over the next two weeks. No special tactics or strategy, just run straight at them, pick your target, and let them have it. Got it?"

"Behemoth, copy." Her voice was surly from her hangover. If he'd somehow missed it, the call he got at an unholy hour this morning from Darius picking her up from the local drunk tank after beating four local thugs senseless in a bar fight would have confirmed it.

"Glitch, copy."

"Sunshine, copy."

Donavan couldn't help but glance over at their refurbished Centurion CN9-A and its pilot. Her voice was a little tense, back in the cockpit for the first time since the nightmarish chaos of the coup. That wasn't all of it though—he was beginning to suspect that her dour outlook was more or less permanent. Combine that with her surname and the irony was too much for former lancemates to resist.

The 'Mech itself was still a work in progress. The core frame was there, but Yang was still in the process of fitting armor ad settling on a weapons mix. It was hard to change them moving forward, so when you had a chance to consider a loadout while one was already stripped down like this, it was best to take advantage of it. Well, there was only one way to see how she'd do.

"Lance, Wolf. Engage."

**June 4, 3025**

**Bellifant, 2****nd**** moon of Lyreton**

**Training Grounds outside Porstmouth – Capital City**

"Left, _left!_"

The warning lights of incoming missiles glared, and Donavan tapped the jumpjets to hop to the side when his display went grey, indicating he'd been destroyed. Despite his recent death Donavan carefully guided the Blackjack down in a 'soft' landing that still rattled his bones, bring the 'Mech to a halt. Once he was safely stationary he turned his attention back to the HUD. The local crack forces had proved easy pickings at first, as no military force, however well trained, could match the experience of mercenaries. But over the past week and a half the Bellifant people had improved rapidly, making effective use of their greater experience _together_ and corresponding better coordination.

Still, he had a trick or two left up his sleeve, and he smiled as the two medium 'Mechs that had turned to burn him down were lit up by Elise Rain, who blasted at their exposed backs with her simulated loadout of AC/10 and twin SRM4's.

Yes, just as he'd thought. The military's strength was is organization and they correspondingly placed a lot of emphasis on disrupting command and control, and they'd bit on his dangling the chance to take out the opposing commander, but at the cost of two of their own. Behemoth closed in, simulated weapons blazing, and Donavan smiled. Yes, the lance was definitely starting to come together.

…

Donavan was back in the hotel when Miranda strode in, and he could immediately tell that the imposing woman had had enough. She marched straight up to him, ignoring the surrounding people, and got right in his face. "Dammit Wolf, what the hell are we doing? I'm a 'Mech Warrior, not a bloody training partner. What is this?"

The Commander stood his ground, breathing in the scent of alcohol on her breath. Jessica looked between the two of them, concerned, while Elise slowly moved back to the edge of the room. Mohammed looked up from a movie on his tablet, shrugged, then continued watching.

"You know exactly what we're doing, Behemoth. We're earning easy money and getting a feel for our new lance while our 'Mechs are getting fixed. Once they're ready we're right back in it."

Miranda didn't respond, instead just staring at him unsteadily, enormous arms flexing.

"Behemoth, Miranda, you know me. We've fought together for a few years now. I know you're frustrated with all this hand-holding, but stick with me for a couple more days and we'll be on to the next job."

A long moment later Miranda snorted and nodded choppily. "I guess you've earned that much, Wolf. But when this is done, we'd better see some more action. All this sitting around is burning cash." She turned and marched away, and Donavan allowed himself to breathe again.

It was a good reminder that it took a certain type of personality to make it as a 'Mech Warrior But there was that second, easy-to-forget element; Behemoth was effectively a not-so-small business owner with one asset that had a voracious appetite for overhead. So yes, Behemoth loved the fight, loved the feeling of being elite, something between the cocksure attitude of an ancient fighter pilot with the responsibility that came with the firepower of a whole division at her fingertips, but she literally couldn't afford to stay out of the fight for very long.

Miranda tore the door open to expose a startled Darius, hand extended to the doorknob. Miranda shouldered her way past him and stomped down the hall towards the lobby's bar. Darius glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Problem?"

Donavan shook his head. "Don't worry about it. What've you got?"

"Good news. That ambush on the Directorate job is still open, and even better, they've bumped up the offering price. None of the smaller local outfits are willing to stick their necks out, so that's a break for us."

"Good, I know you've been itching to take it. We've got two more days on this job, and Yang's promised everything but the Spider will be ready to go by then, so go ahead and give them the word that we're in. The Wolves are back in business."

**June 7, 3025 **

**Bellifant, 2****nd**** moon of Lyreton**

**Deep Jungle outside Porstmouth – Capital City**

Wolf took a slow breath, hands easing on the well-worn rubber-gripped controls of the Blackjack. Th e weapon racks were once again loaded with live ammunition, and he decided that the Blackjack felt different than it had the past two weeks. It felt better.  
Outside the canopy wasn't the defensive perimeter around Portsmouth, Bellifant's capital city, but rather dense jungle. Despite the quiet assurances of the government. It made sense that the locals wanted to have mercenaries send their message for them, but if the Directorate decided they were prepared to force the issue with Bellifant, a small mercenary company from out of town, as it were, made for an excellent fall guy to pin all the blame. So he would take on the Directorate, but not with Bellifant guns at his back. If that made their political message a little less pointed, well, that was their problem.

His HUD blinked with an incoming signal.

"Dial in, lance, Sumire has picked up the Directorate lance."

"Behemoth copies," she replied eagerly.

"Glitch copies," as upbeat as always.

"Sunshine copies." The newest pilot's voice was as dour as ever, but she sounded a little more confident and comfortable after the last two weeks of exercises. Going into combat with someone new was always worrying, but at least she had a feel for the lance now.

Wolf keyed in the startup sequence, spinning the engine up to full power and sending small forest creatures running for cover, then forced himself to relax and settle deeper into the command chair. It was going to be a while yet, and he reached out to touch the weapons belt strung over the back of his chair, running his fingers over the steel grip of the Ceres Arms Slasher Combat Knife, exported by the Capellan Confederation. Ceres Arms knew their way around a knife, that was for sure, though it was a little bizarre that the same company had built Glitch's Vindicator. And on the other side of the belt was a Rugan K12 submachine gun for personal defense, with three clips strapped to the belt itself. Now that he was going back into combat, the weapons came with him—he never wanted to find himself alone and unarmed.

Sumire was cruising along in low orbit, keeping an eye out for them, and her sensor readings pinged onto his plot, identifying the opposing lance as two Locusts, a Phoenix Hawk, and a Merlin. He considered the lance carefully. Locusts were one of the most common 'Mechs around thanks to the sheer number of them that had been manufactured, combined with the fact that the single biggest advantage in both firepower and cost for a 'Mech was the difference between having a light 'Mech and having to go it with just tanks and infantry. The Phoenix Hawk was almost as common, at heart a Stinger upgraded by swapping out the GM 120 engine for a GM 270 and throwing on another medium and large laser. Their niche was as a fast medium 'Mech leading reconnaissance squads.

The biggest concern as that Marlin, and it was worrying enough that he seriously considered keeping the lance there, powered down, and letting them walk right on by. The sixty-ton heavy 'Mech was a technological marvel, as far as he knew the only new 'Mech design in something like a century. From a practical standpoint, it was a Vindicator on steroids, keeping the PPC, medium laser, and LRM-5 and adding a second laser, a flamer, and a machine gun.

Still… against other 'Mechs the Locusts were extremely fragile, and with the Merlin's primary weapon system being a PPC it was intimidating as hell for fixed defenses, which probably explained why the Directorate deployed it here, but it was also lacking in close range firepower. If they could get right on top of them… and taking out a lance of Directorate 'Mechs, including one of their brand-new ones, it would do wonders for their reputation.

His leg started bouncing without him realizing it as he stewed over it. 'Mechs were best at, and mostly used for, rapid attacks and raids on fixed or very specific targets, blasting their way through tanks and other more typical military forces before falling back, but what really captured the imagination, and led to the broadcast of Solaris VII BattleMech fights across the entire Inner Sphere and beyond, was the prospect of 'Mech on 'Mech fights, where the skill of each pilot and their knowledge of their weapon systems determined the victor.

As he thought he watched their progress on the plot, and they were looking to pass within three hundred yards of them along the primary road towards the Portsmouth, just as they'd hoped, and that sealed it. At that range there was a fair chance they'd be picked up by the BattleMech's systems and they'd be forced to fight it out anyways, only without the element of surprise. And after all, they weren't in this business to avoid taking risks.

"Lance, Wolf. On my mark put everything you've got into the Merlin until its down, then go for the Phoenix."

The Directorate lance was moving at a steady rate, thankfully, so as Sumire slipped out of range he could still keep rough track of them. They should be at their closest point right… about… _now._

"Execute!"

The lance tapped on the jets to help clear the low embankment, sending up a vaporized cloud of water behind them. The entire lance alpha-striked on the Merlin which disappeared behind a screen of fire and smoke, but not before he saw it toppling over sideways, overwhelmed by the raw impact of that many autocannons and SRMs at once, and his HUD showed devastating damage across its armor.

"Leave it! Clean sweep, don't let the Locusts run!"

The raw shock of surprise kept the Directorate lance moving in more or less a straight line, but that was changing quickly, and scattered fire was coming back in from the Locusts, but the Phoenix Hawk panicked slammed on the jumpjets, launching it skywards and leaving its land-bound compatriots to fend for themselves.

"Behemoth, Sunshine, finish the Locusts, Medusa you're with me on the Phoenix." He eased onto the throttle, bringing the Blackjack up to full speed in a running pursuit. Medusa in his Locust followed suit but reigned in the speed to stay with Wolf. Aggressive he might be, but going up against an untouched medium 'Mech alone in a Locust was a little much, even for him.

Wolf calculated quickly. That long burn jump from the Phoenix cost the Directorate pilot the heat advantage, and he was outnumbered, but Medusa had only the single laser worth mentioning and Donavan's AC/2's weren't really suited to this close-range of fighting, making it five lasers on his three, but one of his was a large laser which could hurt like hell, but like his AC/2's, was better suited to long range.

Ahead of them the Phoenix Hawk landed, and to the pilot's credit, he'd recovered from his surprise and was turning to bring his weapons to bear. Unfortunately for him, the smart thing to do would be to keep right on running and save his 'Mech for the Directorate.

"Medusa, stay on his flank, you know the drill."

"No sweat, Wolf."

The gutsy Aurigan native showed no compunction at all fighting against his former countrymen and sprinted ahead, unleashing his full speed and the darting around to the side, trampling underbrush as he went.

Wolf opened up with his lasers, linked two and two once more, to keep up fire and keep the Phoenix from trying to turn and crush the Locust. His fire raked furrows into the BattleMech, but then two lasers fired back, one impacting dead center on his torso, while the second went wide, and the eye-searing bright blue of a heavy laser actually passed between his arm and torso, caring a hundred meter line of devastation through the rainforest and leaving a plume of superheated air in its wake.

Wolf returned fire with his other pair of lasers, and saw Medusa's single laser lash out from the other side, scoring a hit on the Phoenix's thinner back armor. He kept moving, keeping up the pressure but erring on the side of speed over accurate shooting while Medusa plinked away at him. After only a minute or so the enemy had apparently proven his own courage to himself and determined that discretion was the better part of valor, turning to make a run for it. Unfortunately, that exposed his already shredded back armor, and Wolf slammed to a halt, pushing his gyros to the limit to keep him balanced, and opened up in the dream shot, a full alpha-strike to the back. His heat levels shot past critical in the roiling tropical heat, shutting down all his weapons, but the effect was devastating. His fire slashed through the ruined armor and deep into the underlying structure, frying systems and severing at least one core myomer muscle set, as the right leg instantly seized up.

Already getting up to speed, the 'Mech tripped, pitching forward, and its head erupted in flames as the pilot ejected from his doomed 'Mech. The Phoenix Hawk plowed into the dirt, shredding trees and leaving a dozen-meter long trench.

"Medusa, track down that pilot. I'll help the others."

"Yo," he replied and sent his Locust scurrying after the slowly descending ejector seat. Wolf turned back to the HUD, but Sunshine and Behemoth had both gunned down the Locusts, and Wolf allowed himself a grin. A clean sweep!"


	10. Maneuvers

**Chapter 9: Maneuvers**

**June 7, 3025 **

**Bellifant, 2****nd**** moon of Lyreton**

**Leopard Dropship**

Lieutenant Elric Anea was not doing well as he sat confined in a tiny cell in a Leopard dropship, held captive by mercenaries. His family had hung onto their nobility through sheer grit and determination over the previous decades staving off bankruptcy, and when at last their family Locust had been destroyed along with his grandfather fighting to establish the Aurigan Coalition they'd been rewarded for their service to House Madeira with a Phoenix Hawk, and things had finally started looking up.

Unfortunately, it was a Madeira who'd tried to help Lady Arano escape the coup and the House, and everyone under it, had felt the displeasure of House Espinosa ever since. Shunted off to a backwater assignment, only to get jumped by a bunch of mercenaries, and the Phoenix… oh, the Phoenix…

He buried his face in his hands, fighting back tears of shame, but also of fear. How would the Directorate respond? What would happen to his family? Would the Director have mercy and grant them a replacement 'Mech, or would it be on his watch, at his hands, that the Anea family descended back to the helpless peasants they'd been before?

The cell door clanged open and a man entered, the Commander of this sorry outfit if he had to guess. His dark hair was chopped short enough for the physical contact fields required on an old neurohelmet. He was about average height, though with the lean, muscled body of someone accustomed to being thrown around in a 'Mech.

The man watched him for a moment, and he felt a stab of shame and scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to hide his tears.

"So, you're the Directorate pilot, are you?"

"I'm a _MechWarior_, not some mercenary _pilot_." Elric stared up defiantly at his captor.

The man's grey eyes hardened in anger, but his words remained flat and calm. "The Directorate shot me in the back and sabotaged me, so I see you as more of a pirate than a soldier, but let's lay that aside and focus on the reality here. You _were_ a MechWarrior. Now you've got no 'Mech and you're my prisoner, and I have to decide what to do with you. I'm supposed to return any survivors to the Directorate, but I want some questions answered first."

Elric's face burned as he realized he hadn't spared a thought for his lance, so focused was he on the impending ruin of his family. Stars, everything was falling apart. "How are they? Did you kill them?"

The mercenary shrugged. I'm afraid the fall killed the pilot of the Merlin, but both of the Locust pilots made it. One is in pretty bad shape, but the other is just a little banged up. If you want them to get medical attention at your base, however, you'll need to tell me about this base of yours. Where it is, for starters."

Elric bit his lip. The Directorate would _not_ be pleased if he gave out any information, especially not to mercenaries with the gall to ambush Directorate forces. But they were going to be furious with him anyway, and he abruptly had a terrible, awful suspicion that he'd abandoned them in the fight. No… no, he was done for, his family doomed, but he could maintain some shred of honor, even if only in his own mind, for saving his lance mates now.

"It's small, not much more than a few pre-fab buildings, a 'Mech hangar, and a DropShip landing pad. I'll give you the coordinates, but please, help my lancemates!"

"Done. My pilot will get the location details from you and we'll be on our way immediately, and you and your lancemates will be ransomed for the standard fee. We may have been trying to kill each other not long ago, but there's no reason we can't be civilized about this, even this far out on the Periphery."

Elric sagged against the cell wall, feeling as if he were deflating as the decision was made. "Thank you, and… who are you?"

The Commander, who'd turned to exit the hatch, paused and looked back. "I go by Wolf." And he was gone.

**June 8, 3025 **

**Coromodir VI**

**Cordia City**

Director Espinosa forced himself not to pace in the war room, surrounded by his top advisors and with Victoria by his side.

"That concludes our report, Director. In short, the Taurians have backed off their claims to our spinward systems, but tensions remain high internally. If we can keep things calm for another year, or possibly even six months, things will have cooled off enough to lower our internal controls, likely remove the curfew without sparking outright unrest, and _possibly_ de-nationalize the House lances and other military assets."

Espinosa nodded gravely. "That is good news, general; our core mission preventing the disintegration of the Directorate has been mostly accomplished, but I'm concerned, _greatly_ concerned, by the Magistracy. They always have a plot going somewhere, and we have not received any word of activity on their part against the Capellan Confederation despite it being nearly collapsed. They were friendly to us once, and I find their current silence ominous. And now these 'minor incidents' along our anti-spinward flank are flaring up while our forces are deployed towards the Taurians. What's the latest there?"

Another general spoke up hesitantly. "Yes, Director, of course. Ah, several of our patrols beyond our borders have had… incidents. Usually it's nothing. By the far the worse was on Lyreton, where a lance was destroyed outright in an ambush by mercenaries. They ransomed three of the pilots, who reported that they were destroyed by Wolf, or possibly Wolves, in a lance of Medium 'Mechs."

The Director frowned. "We cannot afford to escalate tensions to anti-spinward while we are deployed to spinward to face down the Taurians. Keep our forces on a tighter lease, closer to home, and come up with a justification to track down and destroy this Wolf running in the wilds. We must make it clear that provoking the Directorate is not cost effective."

He nodded and glanced out the reinforced, bullet-proof viewport up to the moons slowly rotating around his home planet. _Just a little longer. We just need to hang on a little longer, and we can let go of the emergency powers and things can start to go back to the way they were._

**June 8, 3025**

**Lyreton, High Orbit**

_**Union**_**-class DropShip **_**Cormorant**_

High Lady Kamea Arano stared at her reflection in the mirror of her small estate room on the Cormorant. She expected to be called upon by Lady Ana Maria Centrella shortly, to say farewell as she returned to the Magistracy. If she was fortunate, Lady Centrella would bring up the Wolves' raid—if she wasn't, she'd have to bring it up herself.

This moment had come a lot sooner than she'd hoped, but the time to make her move was now, and she ran through her own analysis once more, checking for any mistakes.

The Magistracy was at a delicate moment—the current Magestrix, Kyalla Centrella, was in her thirteenth year as head of state, and she was a woman of passion, both in her leadership and her personal life. She was currently on her third husband after her infidelity had destroyed the first marriage and driven the second husband to treason. No word yet on how the third was doing, but the legendary pleasure parlors of the Magistracy had an ongoing pool on how long the third would last. Given the rumors that Joran Han was her newest affair (which might explain his recent appointment as President of the Board of Directors of the Central Bank, despite being eminently unqualified), the optimistic bets were for a year.

This reputation for impetuousness had led to some concerns amongst her nobility. Nothing like a resistance—there didn't even exist a mechanism to remove a Magestrix—but a quiet hope that she would reign it in a little was there. And that's all it had been, until very recently. Lady Kamea had had the infinite, infuriating pleasure of being hosted (very, very privately) by the Centrella family to remind her of her own importance, and unimportance, all at once. But playing her part as the earnest-but-pliant tool had allowed her attendance into some sensitive meetings, and she'd been quietly listening when an advisor, momentarily forgetting her presence, had mentioned something about negotiations with Dame Catherine Humphreys before being casually silenced, and _that _was momentous; she'd barely kept a straight face.

Dame Catherine Humphreys, Duchess of Andurien and Lady of House Humphrey, controlled the Andurien worlds, a conglomerate of twenty-five inhabited systems tucked right between the Free Worlds League and the Capellan Confederation. The area was highly contested, starting off in the Confederation, then the Free Worlds League had taken it, and the Capellans' frequent attempts to reconquer them gradually shifted in the locals' minds from liberation attempts to conquest attempts. Eventually House Liao got them back, then they were reconquered by House Marik once again, and the locals were now sick of both sides.

Dame Humphreys embodied that attitude, being vocally displeased with House Marik leadership and Capellan designs to reclaim them. Inserting the volatile Kyalla into that mixture was asking for trouble, and though Kamea hadn't heard another word about it, she was certain that those concerns were coalescing into something more.

That single fact changed the political calculus where she was concerned. The question was, which side was Ana Maria on? If she was with Kyalla then she would fully back them and try to cause as much ruckus as possible to distract the Capellans from negotiations with the Anduriens. If she was concerned by the Magestrix, then Ana Maria would probably do her best to keep Kamea as reigned in as possible, allowing all the military arguments against trying anything between not one, but _two_ Inner Sphere powers as much weight as possible.

Unfortunately for Kamea, she was betting the ultra-civilized Ana Maria was in the latter (probably saner) category—she'd been a known friend of Emma Centrella, daughter of Kyalla's executed second husband. That did offer some opportunity, however. While the Magestrix, as with most House leaders, was a trained BattleMech pilot, the Magistracy's general distaste for military matters, meant most of the rest of House Centrella was not particularly well versed with the capabilities of BattleMechs, and underestimated what you could get done with a single lance of medium 'Mechs, especially out in the wilds.

And so she worked with Alexander, thought it through from every angle, and came up with a strategy—all she needed was an opening to use it. And then, while she was racking her brain, Donavan had handed it to her on a silver platter… assuming she could pull it off.

She gave her immaculate appearance in her red and gold uniform another appraisal, then nodded. _Relax, Kamea. Take a breath. Calm… it will come when—_

The notification light on her desk pinged softly, requesting acknowledgment. She made herself walk slowly to the desk then count to ten, long enough to show she wasn't nervously waiting on the call, but quickly enough that she wasn't petulantly making the woman wait.

"Yes?"  
"My Lady, Lady Ana Maria Centrella requests an audience."

"Of course, John. Please, see her in at once."

Moments later and the chamber door was opened by a young lieutenant who was, until very recently, an NCO in the Aurigan Coalition Forces in the infantry. Kamea had been tutoring him on the job and he was getting close to being comfortable speaking to her, but despite the earnest determination on his part, he would never match the cool professionalism of her former House staff. The rifles of the two similarly converted House Guard parted to allow Lady Centrella to pass.

Unfortunately, the DropShip's galley, while perfectly adequate to feed the small crew contingent, was never intended to supply diplomatic luncheons, so rather than offer something cobbled together, she elected not to try.

"Welcome Lady Centrella." She offered the traditional half-bow for fellow nobles of roughly even status and gestured her into the compact state room.

Ana Maria glided in with her usual effortless grace and settled into her accustomed chair, with Kamea sitting down across from her, feet sinking a millimeter into the soft carpet. For a moment they simply watched each other, sizing each other up. Lady Centrella, as ever, was stunning in her white and green trimmed uniform, her face a mask of pleasant neutrality.

"Lady Centrella, as always it is a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise, High Lady. I am afraid my visit will be quite short, as I am required to return to the Magistracy, but I wished to pay my respects and inquire over a small matter."

Kamea kept her heart rate steady. "Oh?"

Ana Maria watched her closely. "There was a small ambush of Directorate forces by a mercenary group that sounded remarkably similar to Donavan's Wolves, I believe they were called."

_Yes!_ "While I am not yet certain, I suspect that it was the very same. As you know, we are still in the planning stages, so it seems the mercenaries are exercising their prerogatives in pursuing their own assignments. I would prefer if they would avoid interacting with the Directorate without proper direction, but without control of their debt, I'm afraid that they will look to you for confirmation of my directions."

Lady Centrella looked back steadily. "An interesting notion. Yet I would be remiss in simply handing over that sizeable of an investment on behalf of the Magistracy."

_You mean you don't trust me not to mess up your plans the moment your back is turned._ "Of course, Lady Centrella. And yet, there are costs associated with retaining control from so distant a place as Canopus."

Ana Maria's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "Go on."

"Time, of course. As you know, all of our attention is on our efforts to undermine the Directorate, but the majority, even the vast majority, of our efforts are not of the 'direct' variety, meaning that the mercenaries will be left to follow their own pursuits most of the time. It may be difficult to reach you and relay your instructions before they take action. I will be much closer at hand to stand them down lest they cause more disruption than we are prepared for." _Yes, just like you, I obviously will focus more on the diplomatic, rather than the dirty, messy, military action. And I'll be right here to keep them from making any steps that could _actually_ cause problems, because we wouldn't the Capellans to be distracted les Kyalla pull off whatever she's planning, now would we?_

Lady Centrella blinked twice, her equivalent of a groan. "That… is indeed a concern, High Lady. We certainly want to keep the situation under control."

_I knew it. I knew it!_ "And that is to say nothing of what were to happen if the Directorate were to look into the mercenaries and the recent acquisition of their debt. Should that be traced back to, say, a small holding company set up as an affiliate of Magliss Spirits on New Dawn. Of course, the CEO who signed off on the purchase is Samantha Carter Wiley, who happens to be a childhood friend, and some whisper lover, of a distant cousin of Kyalla within House Centrella itself, who happened to come into money recently, though no one is quite sure from where. And while such a distance connection should be easy for the Magistracy to disavow, but why take the risk of the Magistracy being pulled into a direct conflict with the Directorate?"

At this Lady Centrella went pale.

_That's right Ana Maria, it took a while, but we traced the money back to you, and if we can, you can be sure the Directorate can, too. And Kyalla has been as free with her punishments as she's been with her favor, especially when it comes to her own family._

"High Lady, your points are well taken. You can be assured that I will raise them with the Magistracy, and I expect we will see the debt transferred."

Lady Arano nodded gravely, masking inner satisfaction. After a few more pleasantries, Lady Centrella took her leave, and Kamea watched the hatch shut behind her with something like relief. _Well, there are no guaranties, but it seems like the chances are good they'll transfer control of Donavan's Wolves over, and with that we can do a lot more damage than the Magistracy might dream the overly cautious, untrusting, self-important lady-in-exile could possibly manage._

**June 9, 3025**

**Lyreton System, Deep Space**

**Leopard DropShip**

Spirits were high on the Leopard, home to Donavan's Wolves. Whispers of the mercenaries who'd smashed an entire lance of Directorate 'Mechs were spreading, which did great things for their reputation. It also made them rather large targets, as there was little chance the Directorate wouldn't take the chance to step on them if they could do it in front of the locals, so it was time they moved on… after salvaging everything they possible could from the 'Mechs.

And so they were boosting out of the system at an easy pace, as the next JumpShip wasn't scheduled to arrive in over a week, while Yang excitedly got to work. Between the two wrecked Locusts and spares they'd acquired for Medusa's Locust, Yang was convinced he could put together a second functional Locust.

For his part, as leader of the Lance (and Commander of the outfit), he had claimed dibs on what was more valuable than the Locust—the Directorate must really have wanted to impress the locals into not causing problems, because the Phoenix Hawk was still packing the original Star League Tek Tru Trak combination target-tracking and advanced fire control system. He was extremely excited to see what that would d do to his accuracy if they could strip it and install it on the Blackjack.

And that didn't say anything of the mother load—a beautiful old neurohelmet. Not an original, of course, as one of those would have been worth as much as the Leopard, but made before the Inner Sphere had blown the technology out of each other. Instead of his monster helmet that looked like an ancient diving suit, covering him down to the shoulders and making him have to rotate his entire torso just to turn his head, this was more like a heavy infantry helmet, covering his chin but leaving his neck free. It still had physical contact receptors, but they were significantly more sensitive, allowing for better balance and agility, and finer motor control. That had him positively salivating at the prospect.

All in all, for the first time in a while, things were definitely looking up.

**June 28, 3025**

**Herotitus System, Deep Space**

**Leopard Dropship**

Donanvan's euphoric mood after their victory in Lyreton had most definitely worn off when they finally arrived in the Herotitus system. Despite being next door neighbors to Lyreton, they'd spent more than two and a half, really almost three whole weeks to get there. The JumpShip, whose schedules were somewhat tenuous even in the Inner Sphere, had been more than a week late to arrive, and then they'd had mechanical issues. They'd grumbled, but not too loudly, at the extra delay—the stories of what happened when a JumpShip misjumped were enough to turn any man's stomach.

_Well, at least we're here… in a manner of speaking._ Only eight more days of sublight travel to Herotitus II, which was more or less the definition of a mixed bag. In a rare display of cooperation, the planet had been jointly settled by both the Taurians and the Canopians, set up as an agrarian project. According to the planet info download, an old Taurian Leader, Protector Semyon Calderon, had somehow convinced himself that conquering the place was a good idea. He must've thought it would be easy, seeing as the Magistracy had only light infantry there. Unfortunately for them, they managed to let the Magistray know they were coming and promptly got their butts kicked.

Then about twenty five years ago the Taurians had tried a different sort of invasion when a group calling themselves the New Hedons showed up, taking a page out of the Magistracy's book and trying to set themselves up as the pleasure center for the neighboring systems. Gambling, hunting, sports, and anything else you could think of, including the traditional redlight district offerings, could be had there. It made for some odd bedfellows, the conservative, even puritanical farmers and the unabashedly hedonistic business folks, but it seemed to be holding up, at least for the moment.

And where there was tension, there was usually work. All they had to do was find it.

**July 6, 3025**

**Herotitus II**

**New Hedron, Capital City**

Donavan leaned back against the Leopard's hull gazing out over wide fields of golden grain. It was beautiful, really, and quite peaceful. And that was the problem. After roughly a month of transit to get here, and they'd come up empty. There were a number of job postings when they'd left, but while they'd been stuck twiddling their thumbs the local issues had been resolved.

Darius had gone into town to see if he could rustle up something, and Miranda had led an expedition with Mohammed and some of the 'MechTechs to the pleasure domes to work out their frustrations. Donavan had stayed behind. He needed to think clearly, and those places were designed to do the opposite.

Soft footsteps echoed down the gangway and Donavan glanced up to see Sumire descending. She paused next to him, taking in the view. They stood in silence for a minute, just taking it all in. A breeze blew gently over the farmland, rustling the fields like waves on the sea, while the sun slowly set in the background.

"Would you look at that," he said quietly, not realizing he'd spoke aloud.

"It's really something, I'll give you that. I like the quiet, too… not swarms of squawking birds everywhere."

"Sumire, if you don't mind, I'd like to get your take on something that's been bothering me. You know, probably even better than I do, just how messed up of a place the galaxy is. Ever since my family and House was destroyed because we didn't understand the political landscape I've done a lot of reading, and it sure seems like we've regressed all the way back to the dark ages on old Terra. Communication and education are limited, leaving the local authorities more or less on their own to do whatever they want so longa s the taxes go out and the right number of 'Mechs show up when the Lord or Lady calls. Just… how did we get here? What happened? And is it any different in the Inner Sphere?'

Sumire stared off into the sunset for a while, considering her words. "Wolf, Donavan, you know that my family came from the Draconis Combine, about as far on the other side of the galaxy as you can get from here, and the stories my family told me… No. no, it's not any better in the Inner Sphere, or anywhere else. But being out there… I think what's really done us in has been that we overreached. We built up all across the galaxy, but look at our transportation system. I don't' know if anyone has any clear idea of how many JumpShips are out there, and take it from me as a former JumpShip pilot, we barely understand how they work, so that's not going to be changing any time soon. And the real killer…"

She paused, glanced around quickly for any listening ears. "The real killer is communication. How can any sort of major development project, or even just normal research and development, happen when we can barely talk to each other, and when we do we're looking over our shoulders and worrying about who ComStar might tell."

Donavan frowned. "But doesn't ComStar keep the Houses from getting too out of control?"

"Do they though? The Third Succession War has been pretty much non-stop since 2866—how many generations have come and gone never knowing what peace is like? Di ComStar stop the Mariks from their incredibly stupid invasion of the Lyran Commonwealth in 2949? Did they stop the Steiner's deep raid into the Free Wolds League in 2987? Have they supported the Steiner peace proposal in the last five years? No… the war is grinding to a halt not because ComStar has done anything, but because we've blown the _shit_ out of ourselves for so long that there's almost nothing left to destroy."

Sumire's voice had gotten more and more heated, and she took a slow breath.

"That's fair… but without ComStar, there wouldn't be _any_ communications or trade at all."

She shrugged. "for a while, maybe, and I'll grant you that it would be pretty ugly, especially for the common folk who usually don't get involved in these sorts of power struggles as one noble family replaces another. But if we leave things the way they are, the underlying communication problem will never go anywhere. Unless you think ComStar will let someone open up a HyperPulse Generator to figure out how it works?"

Donavan actually shivered at the thought. _Nobody_ messed with ComStar. That was rule number one, from mercenaries all the way up to Inner Sphere powers. "No, I don't see that happening any time soon. So I guess nothing's going to chance."

Sumire shook her head, her black hair whisping in the breeze. "No, the galaxy won't be changing any time soon. But that means more work for us, and we can have a little bit of freedom, a little bit of control of our own fates."

Donavan watched Sumire, for a moment her impenetrable demeanor pulled back to reveal the steely determination beneath. "I'm with you, Sumire. Still…" he gestured out to the stunning landscape. "The ones that set down roots do get a nice view, don't they?"

Her distinct facial features, a combination of her Dutch and Japanese heritage, settled back into her usual neutral expression. "For a while, yes. But give it a week, a month, a year, and some lord or mercenary or pirate will come through and burn this town and trample these crops, and when that day comes, they would trade all of it for the chance to fight back."

"Well, I guess we're just ahead of the game, because we've already got the guns."

**July 9, 3025**

**Herotitus II**

**New Hedron, Capital City**

The crew had been gathered up and dragged (in one case literally) out of the mini pleasure circus. They were getting ready to head out to the jump point to hitch a ride on the next JumpShip to anywhere when the word arrived on the planet's Class B HPG—a message from their new benefactors. It seemed Lady Arano was going to be calling on their services already.


	11. Liberation of Weldry

**Author's Note: We're going a little more AU here, especially right at the end of this chapter, but these changes make the choices of everyone involved make a lot more sense. Let me know what you think.**

**Chapter 10: Liberation of Weldry**

**July 22, 3025**

**Weldry System, Jump Point**

**Leopard DropShip**

Donavan was distinctly nervous as they floated at the jump point in the Weldry System. They were still eleven days of sublight travel away from the planet itself, but they were now officially inside the Aurigan Directorate for the first time since they'd fled during the coup.

Still, they weren't exactly alone. Outside the viewport were two venerable Union-class DropShips, one without colors, but the second draped in House Arano crimson. Speaking of which, he refocused on the more immediate surroundings in ops as Lady Arano and Lord Madeira began their briefing.

Kamea glanced at alexander to begin. "Welcome to Weldry, one of the most notorious hellholes in the Aurigan Reach. Everything about this place is hostile to human life. Under the Coalition it was a maximum-security prison for the most hardened of criminals. The Directorate has turned it into a holding place for political prisoners and hostages from the Founding Houses. He gestured to the central display, which showed a slowly rotating planet that seemed to be comprised completely of ice.

"Everything about this place is hostile to human life." Lady Arano tapped on the display controls, which shifted to show a squat facility of several buildings surrounded by a solid, heavy-duty walls. The place looked fairly old, though in elements that harsh it could be hard to tell. The architecture had a distinctly Taurian look to it. "The Directorate is making use of this prison complex on the planet's surface. The inmates call it the Icebox."

Lord Madeira continued. "As I said, the Directorate has been using the facility for high-value hostages. Members of each of the Founding Houses are here—spouses, sons, and daughters. If we liberate the prison and set them free, we break the Directorate's leverage over the Founding Houses. The political map could change overnight."

Kamea nodded firmly. "We don't know what the Directorate has been doing to our people in there, but we have to set them free. Not just for political gain, but because they're _our_ people. And we need your help to do it."

Donavan held up a hand. "Uh, I'm all for liberating the oppressed, but aren't the Founding Houses mostly figureheads these days? I thought Espinosa nationalized their House Guards?"

"True," answered Kamea, "but the Founding Houses are also a symbol of the Coalition and the freedoms enjoyed by the people that they lost when my uncle stole the throne. If they rally behind us, the people who love them will follow. Governments have been toppled with less."

Donavan _definitely_ had doubts about that whole popular uprising thing, but coopting existing power structures, that he could get behind. "Alright, so what, exactly, are we walking into down there? Just how inhospitable are we talking?"

Alexander winced. "It's bad. The climate is near constantly sub-zero, the vegetation is inedible, and the whole planet is infested with blood-sucking insects... the swarms can stretch for miles.

Yang scoffed. "You're joking."

"I'm afraid not. They're called Bronson's Mosquitos. Imagine a colonial biting fly, but the size of your thumb, and they serve as carriers for harmful bacteria."

Sumire scoffed. "And you're dropping _infantry_ there? On purpose?"

"The army will be safe," responded Kamea coolly. "All population centers, including the Icebox, use ultrasonics to keep the swarms at bay."

"So, Lady Arano, it looks like you have something of an army out there… what's our part in this?"

"Decisive, yet subtle action. I will be frank—I expect that the Magistracy anticipates that I will merely annoy the Directorate, unwilling to commit. They have provided me with a number of infantry, but they also turned your debt directly over to me."

Donavan and Sumire shared a surprised glance.

"This means that the _only_ people whose interests align with mine are yours, and whoever joins us without a Magistracy paycheck. So yes, I could throw my last few 'Mechs and borrowed infantry into this fray, but then the directorate would know our objectives and available forces and counter us. The Magistracy would also be much more limited in how they could support us." She sighed softly. "And there is a more practical reason. If the Directorate see _me_ coming, there is a small but real chance once their defenses are compromised that they will simply deactivate the ultrasonic generators, costing us all the hostages we wanted to save and slaughtering the limited ground forces I have. So, you will make a quiet, rapid assault to breach the perimeter and neutralize their defenses. My ground troops will follow up to secure the prison site. So that's the plan—steal the hostages and put the Founding Houses in our debt."

Donavan nodded slowly. That made a lot of sense, and he was deeply reassured by Kamea's realization that the Magistracy wasn't exactly on her side. "Understood, my Lady. And it has the benefit of simplicity. We're ready when you are."

"Good. Make the assault when you're ready, and we'll follow you in. I'll see you on the ground."

**September 2, 3025**

**Weldry**

**Leopard DropShip**

Donavan took a long, slow breath in, and out, and reached for the Blackjack's controls. The last eleven days had been a strange mix of impatience and anxiety. He'd led the squad through as many practice scenarios as he could think up, but in the end they just didn't know what they were going up against.

They did have some good news—Dekker was improving steadily, though he wasn't ready yet to get back in the cockpit, even if they'd had a 'Mech ready for him. On the downside, though, Yang had finally thrown in the towel on the Phoenix Hawk systems. They simply weren't compatible with the Blackjack's computers no matter what he did.

Well, you took what you could get. The deck rumbled beneath his feet as Sumire brought the Leopard in fast and low, scattering a swarm of insects in her wake. "Wolf, Sumire, we're approaching max sensor range from the base. I'm setting down."

The launch platforms rotated around and, as the Leopard crunched down into the snow, lowered to the ground for deployment. The Blackjack immediately rocked as an icy gust of wind hit the 'Mech. He eased onto the controls and cleared the doors, getting familiar with the slick footing. He glanced at his HUD, immediately impressed by the fidelity of his neurohelmet imaging. "Sumire, Wolf, you're clear."

"Copy. Good hunting." He Leopard's engine thrummed as it came up to power and the DropShip soared off into the grey sky.

Wolf considered his surroundings. The terrain was mostly flat, with very low hills. The wind speed was high, and gusting higher, with flurries of snow keeping visibility fairly low. That was going to play merry hell with LRM's and even autocannons, but that also meant that they should be able to get closer before the base defenses could pick them up.

"Lance, form up and let's move. Medusa, don't get too far away, this visibility sucks."

"Copy Boss." The Locust tromped ahead, forcing its way through the snow. The rest of the lance set off just a few seconds later, and Wolf winced as one of those monster mosquitos splattered into the cockpit's canopy. He'd crammed in some emergency cold weather survival gear into the cockpit, which was already making his legs uncomfortably hot, but against that… well, they hadn't talked about it in so many words, but everyone in the lance knew only too well that their life expectancy if they had to eject was going to be in minutes, not hours.

A few tense minutes later and Medusa spoke up once more. "Boss, Medusa, I've got the base. It's as big and nasty as they said. No sign of 'Mechs, but I'm picking up a ring of automated turrets. Some of the generators are nestled into the defenses, but some are outside—my guess is those guns are inside for internal security. Nothing's moving yet, but I think I'm getting some tanks, too."

Wolf processed this quickly. It made sense that, so far away from the Taurian threat, they'd rely on as much automated and conventional forces as they could to free up their 'Mechs for other deployments. And speed was the name of the game here—if the security folks had any sort of time they could take hostages, or even threaten the ultrasonic generators, and everyone would lose.

"Lance, Wolf, sounds about right. Plan A, I say again, going with Plan A. Weapons free _only_ on my mark. Medusa, once we're out in the open take down as many of the exterior generators as you can until the main gate is down, copy."

"Behemoth, copy."

"Medusa, copy."

"Sunshine, copy."

"_Execute._"

Medusa slowed down to an easy walk and let the three medium 'Mechs overtake him, Behemoth to the left, Sunshine to the right, while Wolf, slightly behind them, took the middle. Plan A was brutally simple—charge in and smash the unaware defenses, clearing enough of a gap for the armored personnel carriers behind them and get inside as quickly as possible.

Appearing abruptly out of the sleet misty air ahead of them was a large, dark shape and targets burst to life on sensors. "Weapons free!"

The howling wind was instantly outmatched by the man-made scream of weapons fire as the two turrets on each side of the gate exploded. Another set of explosions, and another, and still no reaction from—

A klaxon began to wail as someone on the other side activated the alarm and emerald green lasers were spitting fire back at them. Wolf ignored them, instead blasting away at the monster gate with everything he had. Even in the icy cold his heat rose precipitously and sweat poured off him.

"Boss, those tanks are warming up!"

Wolf grimaced. This damn gate was taking too long. "Behemoth, Sunshine, jump in there and don't let those tanks come into play. Medusa, get over here." He let off the weapons, lifted one leg, and kicked the half-melted mess.

The impact almost toppled him even with the improved balance of his neurohelmet but he managed to keep his feet under him, and it certainly had the intended effect. He'd knocked hole in it that was several meters wide, and a sweep of his leg cleared it enough to let the APC's in, which was good, because he was already picking them up behind him.

He charged inside and watched as a galleon exploded under Sunshine's guns. Okay, vehicle hangar for the tanks, looked like two cell blocks, and what was that other—

The last building's door slid open and an avalanche of fire came out, all of it wild and un-aimed, but the sheer volume meant a number of autocannon shells collided with Sunshine, sending her to a knee. Shit, there was a whole _lance_ in there! He returned fire almost unconsciously while he struggled to process the neurohelmet readings.

A Jenner, a Centurion, a Trebuchet, and a JagerMech? What the hell was that unit composition? The Trebuchet and the Jager were both long-range fire support 'Mechs, and the Jager was a _heavy_ 'Mech, what was id doing all the way out here? Not important. Priorities—they _had_ to keep those APC's covered, and for the downright terrifying amount of firepower those two 'Mechs had, it came at a cost—they were never meant as front-line units and were lightly armored.

"Behemoth, Sunshine, follow me! Keep them boxed into the hangar and get in close! Medusa, keep the infantry off our backs." He jerked on the controls and launched another alpha strike into the darkened hangar, blowing a chunk out of the JagerMech. A full salvo of SRM's and autocannons came at him in response, slamming him back in his command chair and stripping the armor from his right side.

Behemoth charged in fearlessly, guns blazing, and after a split second's hesitation Sunshine followed suit.

"If they get out in the open we're done!" He kept firing desperately, strafing back and forth across the entrance. Another barrage of lasers and SRM's smashed into behemoth blowing off her arm.

_This isn't going to work. We need to withdraw, but if we let those 'Mechs out we'll get blown to pieces. Maybe if someone stays behind to slow them down? But the APC's, the damned APC's! They'll be slaughtered without help._

Behind him the APC's swarmed in, weaving between the legs of 'Mechs ripping into each other with a mix of courage of desperation to get under the cover of the buildings, and disgorging troops who stormed into the structures like their last hope of salvation.

…

Kamea watched this unfold in from the cockpit of her Kintaro, biting her lip hard enough to bleed as he listened to the battle chatter. What in the galaxy was a lance of BattleMechs doing here? But more to the point, her Magistracy-provided lances were both hanging back, covering the DropShips; they'd take maybe twenty minutes to arrive, too long. Only she was close enough to intervene, and that over the strong objections of Alexander and her BattleMech commander. And they had a point—her Kintaro was instantly recognizable. Apart from being the hereditary symbol of House Arano, the Kintaro was nearly extinct; her was probably the only one in the Periphery, and the goal was _not_ to announce herself yet.

And yet, if she lost the Wolves, she would become exactly what the Magistracy was aiming for—a totally reliant political pawn, and her hopes of restoring the Coalition as anything like an independent power would die with them. And that she could not abide.

She grabbed the controls and launched the venerable heavy 'Mech into motion.

…

Autocannon shells, lasers, and SRM's ripped back and forth at point blank range as the Wolves and Directorate forces, equally surprised at the sudden and furious engagement, tore into each other.

They'd taken the JagerMech out of action, damaging enough lightly-armored systems to force it further back into the hangar, but they'd taken a beating in the process. He and Sunshine had both lost an arm, Behemoth had a leg damaged, and—

At least a dozen SRM's erupted into Behemoth's Shadowhawk at once with enough raw kinetic power to send the 55-ton 'Mech tipping backwards. Wolf could only stare in horror as she went down, and the Directorate was trying to break out of the hangar again. They were done.

"Medusa, abort, regroup with the other 'Mechs, we'll cover you."

To her credit, Sunshine didn't object as he committed them to a death ride—there wasn't much point in punching out, not in these conditions.

"Hold on Wolf, reinforcements on your six o'clock."

He looked over just as a laser connected with his torso, slicing through his tattered armor. The neurohelmet seared on his head as he lost connection with his left leg, dragging it behind him and nearly falling over. Unable to move, the Directorate forces concentrated their fire. Wolf leaned forward, yet the storm of SRM's crashed into him, tearing through armor and into his structure. The Blackjack vibrated from the continuous rolling explosions, wrenching Wolf's hands from the controls, and jerking him around wildly. The safety restrains clamped down harder, detecting the havoc.

Wolf's vision blurred and he clung to his command chair for dear life as over a dozen military-grade, armor-piercing high explosives detonated just three meters away.

With Wolf totally overwhelmed the feedback from his neurohelmet fell silent and the Blackjack's gyro was left to handle the load alone, and though it did its best, the centuries-old equipment was unequal to the task, and the Blackjack began to fall backwards.

The 'Mech took nearly three seconds to fall while the stunned Wolf reflexively tried to grab anything he could, fingers clenching metal. He gasped in a wordless scream as the 'Mech fell. The cockpit crunched into the compacted snow and concrete with such force the command chair snapped, and Wolf's head slapped into a console and everything went black.

…

Kamea bit off a curse as she saw Wolf go down, toppling over backwards, but his desperate gambit had kept the Directorate forces bottled up and close together, which was exactly where her short-ranged Kintaro shined. "Hang on Wolf!"

She moved in, her triple HoverTec SRM-6 launchers on continuous fire unleashing a volcano of explosions into the lightly armored support 'Mechs to devastating effect, followed by multiple secondary explosions as her fire cooked off spare autocannon ammunition inside the hangar.

**DropShip **_**Cormorant**_

Lord Alexander Madeira kept himself from pacing back and forth across the command center on the Cormorant through sheer force of will as he listened to the reports coming in. This operation was… high risk, in more ways than one. At his side Subaltern Regis, known to very few as Subaltern _Madeira_, looked up.

"Status update, my Lord. The Icebox perimeter is secure apart from some last infantry holdouts. At least one of the Wolves went down securing the site, and it appears they were on the verge of destruction when Lady Kamea personally intervened."

He winced. "She _can't _risk herself like that! A single random laser and the whole Restoration movement collapses! And especially not for some random backwater mercenaries!" He shook his head. "Continue."

"The infantry are securing the interior of the last prison building now and are sifting through the prisoners."

Madeira froze. "Containment?"

We're still processing, but we've secured a number of House Madeira prisoners. There have been a few potential leaks contained, with a few noteworthy ones. Lexa Decimis, Amron Karosas, and… Sir Raju Montgomery."

Alexander swore. He disliked mercenaries on principle, but the old man had earned his grudging respect over the years, and he didn't deserve this. Hell, if he'd been here the last three years, he didn't deserve _any_ of what had happened to him. But whatever his personal feelings, House Madeira came first, and he could take no risks. Not today. "It's contained?"

"Yes, Lord Madeira."

"Good. This operation has been a mess but it's still salvageable. Let me know if there are any updates. I need to get down there."


	12. Shockwaves

**Chapter 11: Shockwaves**

**September 2, 3025**

**Weldry**

**The Icebox**

Kamea watched anxiously from the cockpit of the Kintaro over the Icebox facility, or what was left of it. Smoke billowed from blown-out weapons emplacements and the snow was trampled by the desperate feet of 'Mechs and soldiers alike, then blackened by weapons fire. The gates had been blown open, but despite bullet holes and craters from shoulder-mounted weapons, the prison buildings themselves were still mostly intact, and crucially, the ultra-sonic emitters were still functioning. That was increasingly important. _And they'd better stay on._ She looked out at the huge cloud of Bronson Mosquitos swarming against the invisible barrier, frenzied by the blood spilled across the snow.

The central open space was jam-packed with vehicles, with something like a dozen APC's parked near the buildings, screened by a number of her loaned infantry. Surrounding those were a small contingent of BattleMechs, heaviest among them her Kintaro. They were almost untouched save for three of the Wolves who were a mess, surrounding the fallen Blackjack.

On the corner of her HUD a countdown showed a little over six hours left until the Directorate could get reinforcements from elsewhere on the planet. Below another crowd of prisoners emerged from the buildings, escorted by two soldiers and draped in thermal blankets. They slipped and slid in the snow and began clambering into an APC. The seconds ticked by and the APC sealed up and started the journey out to one of the three DropShips parked beyond the perimeter.

_Deep breaths, Kamea, we've still got a long way to go, but we're still on schedule._

Her com board lit up with a call. "Yes Alexander?"

"Kamea, I'm at the front of the prison complex."

She looked over and saw him there, waving in the direction of her cockpit. "I need you to meet me in the prison complex right now."

"What is it?"

"It's… it's not an emergency, but it might be best if you saw it for yourself. And Kamea, prepare yourself. This isn't going to be easy."

The connection died and Kamea swallowed hard. She was tempted to call him back and demand he explain himself, and then glanced at the countdown, which changed her mind. She trusted Alexander and there was no time to delay. She pulled on the controls and the heavy 'Mech eased down to one knee, drawing nervous glances from the ground troops. She popped the canopy's seal and immediately shivered as an icy wind blasted into her.

Kamea forced herself to ignore it—with her red half-jacket and white gloves a brief exposure shouldn't do any lasting harm. She made her way down the emergency handholds on the Kintaro's leg, and by the time her boots splashed into the slush a full squad of soldiers had formed up as an escort.

Another young Section Leader came to attention, his uniform smeared with what looked like blood. "My Lady, we will be your escort. Lord Madeira has instructed us where to meet him. Whenever you are ready, High Lady."

She clenched her teeth to keep from shivering and simply nodded. The soldiers turned, their rifles in their hands but pointed skyward. They marched forward in lockstep surrounding her as they made their way towards the nearest holding building. She glanced to the side as they went at the Wolves' medical personnel clustered around the downed Blackjack, and then she was at the entrance.

The outer doors had been shredded with shaped charges. The entryway was a charnel house with a half-dozen Directorate soldiers gunned down, their blood seeping into her boots. Deeper inside there was another layer of dead security people, _her_ people, and they weren't alone this time—a number of Restoration troops were down as well, most dead, but a borrowed Canopian combat medic was laboring over one of them now, who gurgled on blood, legs kicking feebly in agony.

And then they were into the prison proper, a sea of metal bars. It was loud inside as prisoners, serial killers and madmen, hooted and hollered at the violence. It looked like at least some of the prisoners had been out to exercise when the attack had happened, as another squad of troopers screamed at them to get back into their cells. As the caged prisoners caught sight of Kamea and her full bodyguard contingent they worked themselves into a frenzy banging against the bars and stamping.

Her men hustled her through deeper into the prison and into a separate cell block. She caught sight of Alexander and a pair of soldiers at his back. He motioned the soldiers to step back and give them a little space. "Kamea… I'm so sorry." He gestured into the neighboring cell.

Kamea had a sudden, horrifying suspicion. She stepped into the cell and froze—lying on a small cot was Sir Raju Montgomery, Captain of the Royal Guard, and more importantly, her friend.

He looked older than she remembered, worn and broken down. And then he'd been beaten, his face battered, and then, at last, he'd been shot twice at close range very recently.

"I know how much Mastiff meant to you. He was a friend and mentor to us both."

"How," she whispered. "How did this happen? _Why?_ Why do _this?_"

Lord Madeira entered the cell and stood beside her. "Once the walls were breached at least one of the officers enacted some sort of emergency protocol. The internal security camera tapes were burned and some of the political prisoners were executed in their cells. As to why… they must have known something the Directorate didn't want to get out. We're fortunate we were able to save _any_ of them."

"Alexander, let me be alone for a while."

He proffered a small bow that was garishly out of place against the backdrop of bloody stone and jeering prisoners, and withdrew outside of the cell.

Kamea sat down, heedless of urine stains and filth, sat where Raju had sat, trapped for the last three years. Three years he'd been here, suffering, trapped, while she waited, built support, _prepared_ while he was _dying._ He'd always been there for her, but when he'd needed her, she was off in hiding. Mentally she knew that wasn't true, that he'd sacrificed himself to _allow_ her to escape, but she knew herself well enough after losing her parents to know that it would take time, probably a long time, before her heart felt that.

She wanted to grieve, to lose herself in the emotional release, but all she felt was numb. And in that internal quiet, staring at the walls Raju had watched as he'd been shot hours, maybe even minutes prior, her mind burned along, thinking, weighing.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Not with the universe, that was a truth she'd accepted long ago—no, something was seriously wrong with her calculations, her political calculus, and that mistake had gotten the good man lying next to her, and possibly a lot of people, killed. She tried to nail it down, that illusive, half-recognized something. Well, the biggest, most obvious indicator were those four 'Mechs outside. They had no business being in this terrible place, or even within the next system or two. She knew just how thing the Coalition's supply of 'Mechs was, and that was before many had been damaged and destroyed in the coup, despite Santiago's best efforts to sabotage and preserve as many 'Mechs as he could.

Well…it was _possible_ it was a coincidence, that they were here for some other reason. But that was a very unlikely coincidence, and they'd have to have a good reason to be here besides, and she couldn't think of one. No, the most likely answer was that they'd been tipped off, at least to some extent. But by whom? And why?

She could understand the motivation to sell her out completely, but something so… halfway like this? Lady Centrella, as petty revenge for her outmaneuvering her to wrest away control of the Wolves? No, to pay so much for them and immediately let them be killed off would reflect too poorly on Ana Maria—she was too calculating to make that short-sighted a move. But who else was there? She didn't know, and that was a terrifying thought.

Kamea looked at Raju's rough features, now smooth in death. "I'm swimming in shark-infested waters, Raju. You tried to warn me of that when you were alive, but I think I've finally learned that lesson. There is always another angle, another motivation. I'm only sorry it took your death for me to learn it. But I won't forget, Raju—I won't forget. And I will win this fight."

…

Wolf opened his eyes with a gasp of pain, head swimming while agony lanced through his left side. He hung awkwardly from his restraints on the broken command couch. He took a deep breath trying to clear his head and immediately gasped at a stab of pain from his side. Small breaths, small breaths.

Okay. Something was seriously hurt, probably broken, in his side. That was bad. Wait, nobody was shooting at him, that was… good? Either way, he was done fighting—he could barely move and had no idea where his weapons were. All he knew was that they weren't on his chair any longer. The only way to try to resist the Directorate pulling him out was releasing the restraints and falling against the rear of the cockpit, finding his weapons, and overriding the universal medical cockpit release code. The thought might seem appealing from safety of a DropShip while uninjured, but the fall alone would almost certainly knock him out and aggravate whatever injuries he had.

Well, the good news was his head felt alright, no doubt thanks to his advanced neurohelmet… which didn't seem to be working anymore. Damn.

The cockpit release warning sounded and the hatch hissed open with a gust of freezing wind. He shivered against the cold and gasped at a jolt of pain.

"Wolf, are you okay?"

He slowly turned his head and saw Dr. Harrin and… "Sumire?"

The Draconis Combine native clambered inside next to him, talking while her eyes examined the cockpit and command chair. "Dr. Harrin needed a hand and we jumped on the first APC back. Can you feel your hands and feet?"

"Yeah."

"Good. No other signs of spinal injuries. Doctor?"

"Pull him out."

Sumire nodded. I'm going to get you out of those restraints Donavan. Brace yourself—it's going to hurt."

Before he could say anything, she hit the emergency release catch and he dropped awkwardly into her arms and managed a single grunt of pain before going under once again.

…

Sumire shivered against the bitter cold as a gust of wind seemed to cut straight through her heavy parka. She glanced down at Donavan on the stretcher held between Dr. Harrin's two assistants and adjusted the thermal blanket on him that was beginning to slip off in the wind. They reached the APC and clambered into the vehicle, setting Donavan down onto the floor. The door slammed shut and the engines hummed as they started into motion. Thankfully this was the sole hover APC, designated as the medical APC, and Donavan was spared bounces as they zoomed quickly across the snow. After a few moments of the heaters on full blast her shoulders started to relax.

She looked around at the weapon racks and trauma packs and wondered exactly what she was doing there.

_You're a DropShip pilot, Sumire, you have no business being out in the field like this._ And yet, there she was, and not entirely sure how she'd ended up there. She'd seen Dr. Harris packing up, heard Donavan was hurt, and just followed her out.

She considered the situation critically. _Ensuring the Commander's wellbeing is important—when we lost Markham the whole company nearly collapsed._ That was certainly true… to a point. But her presence wasn't really contributing very much, and risking the pilot without a good reasons was actively counterproductive. That left emotional considerations.

Sumire frowned and looked down at the blank face of Donavan, pale from shock, and considered her feelings. The two of them were friendly, certainly, and she enjoyed conversations with him, which was admittedly unusual for her. Was there something more? … No. But perhaps, somewhere down the line, that might change. Perhaps.

…

Kamea emerged from the cell that had become Raju's tomb after nearly an hour, her eyes once again dry. She'd through and analyzed and schemed until she had a plan, risky as it was, and then the grief came, and she'd broken down in silent tears—all she could afford as a leader of state. And as she cried, she remembered, remembered the lessons with Raju, his kind smile, his generosity and protective instincts towards the young House scion and visiting mercenaries alike. And now he was gone thanks to Santiago and, in part, thanks to her.

She couldn't change that. But she could make his sacrifice not be in vain.

"Alexander."

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Prepare to withdraw and send the film crew to meet me outside the cell blocks."

Alexander couldn't help his eyes widening marginally in surprise, but he took in the expression on her face and simply nodded. "Of course, my Lady."

Twenty minutes later Kamea stood outside once more, ignoring the cold and checking the time—the first Directorate reinforcements could arrive in a little over three hours. They were cutting it very close, but she had to do this.

"My Lady, we are ready."

She turned back to the cameras, brought along to catalogue their victories, but now put to a very different purpose. Her Kintaro was behind her, as well as two large House Arano banners pulled out of the Cormorant for the occasion, flapping wildly in the harsh wind.

"People of the Aurigan Reach, I am Kamea Arano, and I have failed you. For three long years Director Espinosa has imprisoned and starved and murdered our people… and where was I? Hiding in a palace, light years away, building support, planning, while the Director's secret police turned neighbor against neighbor, made your loved ones disappear, conscripted your children. I wasn't here. I… didn't know. The crimes I have witnessed here today are unforgiveable. No doubt Director Espinosa believes the ends justify the means, that the Aurigan Reach has been made strong. Well I say that strength built on fear is brittle! The Directorate is a paper tiger, and I declare this restoration today to rally the true strength of our people, our resilience, our freedom! Let Weldry be a call to arms. Join us, and together we will liberate the Founding Houses and retake Coromodir. Not because it is my birthright, but because the Directorate's crimes against you, the Aurigan people, will no longer be tolerated. That is what I fight for, and I now vow to fight for your freedoms until my dying breath."

The cameras cut, and one of her two choices was made. As they withdrew, that video would be pushed through the HPG network as hard and as far as she could get it. And then they would wait and see.

**September 3, 3025**

**Magistracy of Canopus**

**Canopus IV**

**Capital City of Delphi – Palace Complex**

Lady Ana Maria Centrella was distinctly nervous as she stepped into the small side chamber for an 'unofficial' meeting with Magestrix Kyalla Centrella. Relations they might be, but she was painfully aware that she was a very distant relation, and that that relationship meant very little to the Magestrix.

After a half-dozen bodyguards swept the room, even here at the heart of the palace itself, the woman herself swept into the room imperiously. She cut through the formal niceties with an impatient wave of her hand. "Well? What have you to say for yourself?"

Ana Maria bowed deeply. "My Lady, I presume you refer to recent events to spinward?"

Kyalla rolled her eyes. "You presume correctly. Have you lost control of your little toy noble, Ana Maria?"

She managed to avoid swallowing nervously. That was the crux of it, really. Her fallback plan had always been to cut Kamea off at the knees if she ever threatened to slip the leash, pulling her soldiers and 'Mechs and killing her dream… but Kamea hadn't threatened, hadn't given her any warning. She'd simply gone ahead and done it, openly declaring herself in a broadcast that had sent shockwaves across the Periphery. Ana Maria could admit that here and now, and Kamea's little rebellion would die, but not for a while now that she had her own mercenaries… and if she pulled the plug now, the woman would spend every last moment until she and her mercenaries were hunted down telling everyone how it was the Magistracy who'd backed her, and the Directorate would have little choice but to respond. The Directorate wouldn't take it to open warfare of course – even without considering the Taurian's practically chomping at the bit on their flank the Magistracy could defeat them in a straight fight. But it was a fight neither side wanted, and if it erupted while Kyalla had committed their forces to some stunt in the Inner Sphere, it could escalate into a nightmare scenario. And while she had no better idea than anyone else how that might play out, she knew precisely what the consequences would be for one Ana Maria Centrella. And that left her with no choice at all.

"Not at all, Magestrix. The crimes on Weldry were more egregious than expected, and the Directorate's grip more tenuous than we thought. The mere announcement of Kamea's survival alone might very well create the internal turmoil we're after without every putting our forces in harms way. And you may have noted that Lady Arano has made no mention of _our_ involvement at all."

She stressed the 'our' ever so slightly.

Kyalla nodded slowly. "Perhaps, Ana Maria, perhaps. It would be cleanly done, if it worked. But I suspect that _your _little alliance might be slipping through your fingers. Fortunately for you, the situation has become even more delicate than you know, and replacing you now might cause more damage than it fixes. But do be a dear and try to avoid starting any more civil wars without asking permission first." Her borderline sarcastic tone abruptly hardened. "Nothing will be allowed to interfere with my own plans to coreward. Is that understood?"

Ana Maria bowed meekly, noting Kyalla's clear intent to distance herself from 'her' alliance if things went poorly. "Yes, Magestrix."

"Good. Now, be off with you. I have another consultation with the President of the Board at the Treasury for which I prefer not to be delayed." Kyalla turned to exit as Ana Maria once again bowed. She remained that way until the last of the Magestrix's bodyguards departed, and only then allowed herself to shudder.

**September 3, 3025**

**Aurigan Directorate**

**Coromodir VI**

**Cordia City – Palace Complex**

"…fight for your freedoms until my dying breath."

The recording clicked as it shut down after the twelfth playthrough, leaving the private office in darkness once again. Director Espinosa stared into the space where Kamea's face had been, so full of righteous anger.

She was alive… alive! One of the two DropShips launched had escaped, but his generals had sworn up and down that she'd gone down on that DropShip the day he's seized power, despite his direct order that she be taken alive.

He was a mess of conflicting emotions. Anger that his own people had lied to him. Deep worry that his information sources, what he used to make policy across the entire Aurigan Reach, were faulty. He was afraid of the portent for the war the Reach couldn't afford. And part of him was overjoyed that the precocious little girl he'd watched over, Victoria's playmate from the cradle, was still alive.

And guilt… guilt for his gratitude that she still lived, guilt at feeling a surge of relief when her survival and honest anger threatened to wreak so much death and destruction among the people he was sworn to protect.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would root out those traitors who had lied to him, made him in turn lie to his people Tomorrow he would see just how far the rot spread, how much false analysis he'd been fed, how much truth there was to Kamea's words. Tomorrow he would probably have to consider whether he could afford _not_ to kill her.

But tonight… tonight he would celebrate alone in the quiet that a brave and honest niece he loved still lived, even if only for a little while longer.


	13. The Argo

**Chapter 12: The Argo**

**September 5, 3025**

**Deep Space**

Donavan woke up in the cramped medical bay of the DropShip unsure of how he got there, which was never a good sign. His body felt like it had been run over by a tank, but it was a muted feeling, and his head felt syrupy. Pain killers?

He took a slow breath and wiggled his fingers and his toes. He breathed out with relief—everything seemed to be working and accounted for. And with that knowledge he looked around cautiously and was surprised to see Sumire standing at the bedside.

"Sumire?"

"Welcome back, Donavan."

"Hi… um, it's good to see you. What happened?"

Sumire sat in the single folding chair left beside the bed, squeezed in by the bulkhead beneath a well-secured medical cabinet. "We sone—_you _won. I dropped off the lance just out of sensor range. You moved in and quickly broke into the prison, but a whole lance nobody expected was inside. You kept them stuck inside their hangar despite their superior firepower while the APC's moved in, then held on until Lady Arano came to your relief just as your Blackjack was knocked over, but the prison was secured. You accomplished the mission."

Donavan took a moment to process all this. "I… remember bits and pieces." Is Miranda alright?"

"Yes, she actually got back up on her own."

Well that was good news. "And, uh, did you… carry me at some point?" For a second he thought her faced colored very slightly, which might be chalked up to the drugs.

"Dr. Harrin was called in the moment the Icebox courtyard was secure, and I joined her in the APC. We pulled you out of your 'Mech and got you back here for treatment."

Donavan felt his eyes begin to drift closed again. "Thank you Sumire. Thank… you…" And he was gone.

…

The next time he woke up it was Dr. Harrin standing over his bed with her handheld computer taking notes. She looked over once again and noted his open eyes.

"Ah good, you are awake Commander. How do you feel?"

He considered a moment. "Better, I think. My head is a little clearer. I still feel kind of fuzzy though."

She nodded. "You are still on a significant dosage of painkillers. I judge you are stable enough to be informed of your injuries. You were seriously injured, Commander. Your command couch was unable to withstand the impact as your 'Mech fell and snapped. You landed on your left side, breaking your arm and at least three ribs. The internal bleeding has stopped and we have set the arm, but you require significant time to recover; I estimate at least three weeks. Your skull sustained a significant impact, but your helmet prevented a concussion. The impact was severe enough to destroy the helmet."

"So… you expect a full recovery?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, Commander, _if_ you follow my directions. You were fortunate I was able to reach you quickly."

"I have no complaints here. You know, in all my time with the company I don't think I've ever asked you how you learned all this stuff."

She unlatched a cabinet and began sorting through various bottles of medication. "If by 'this stuff' you mean earning an advanced medical degree, then for your edification I studied at Magistracy Medical School on Canopus."

Maybe it was the painkillers, but he couldn't hide his surprise from the severe woman, and she gave him a small frown. "To use the trite but occasionally useful phrase, Canopian women aren't all high ladies or whores. The Magistracy accepts all lifestyles, Commander."

"I see. Sorry, doctor."

"Just follow my directions, Commander, and leave it at that."

"Yes, ma'am."

…

It took Donavan a week before he was allowed to walk around gingerly and only then because he was in charge of the outfit. While he'd drifted in and out of consciousness Darius had resumed command, overseeing the recovery of their mangled 'Mechs and withdrawing from the planet and the system. They'd intended to go their own way again, but an encoded HPG signal from Lady Arano had redirected them to meet with her back in the Lyreton system in deep space.

Donavan was curious but hesitant—Kame's last adventure had come very close to getting them all killed.

At last they arrived, homing in on Lady Arano's signal, and Donavan couldn't help but whistle as the Argo came into view, growing ever larger out the viewport with a single _union_-class Dropship, the Cormorant, docked to her. "I still can't believe they got her flying again. You forget just how _huge_ she is."

For the first time he was able to really take in the Argo. She was like nothing he'd ever seen. The front end was a roughly spheroid shape, almost like a _union_-class, only maybe five times bigger. Then there was a thing connecting section that held three large pods that rotated around it to generate gravity, but folded in while under thrust. Then at the rear was a cluster of three primary engines.

But it was so _big_—it was almost a mobile space station.

Sumire carefully eased them in, using the small maneuvering jets to clamp onto a docking collar. The air pressure equalized with a hiss and the hatch unlocked. Two heavily armed marines looked inside before allowing the command team abord.

Donavan looked around with interest. The ship was obviously still a work in progress with the deck still scarred by weapons fire and missing overhead panels exposing wiring. They were quickly escorted into a small conference room where Lady Kamea Arano stood tall. The soldiers sealed the doors behind them.

"Donavan, Wolves, welcome aboard the Argo. I have little time, so I will be brief. As you are aware, the political landscape is shifting rapidly, and not in ways we anticipated. I believe that someone on my end is leaking information. A lance of BattleMechs this far from the front lines, especially a lance terribly unsuited to the local windy, low-visibility environment, suggests some sort of last-minute transfer due to a tipoff. Despite the speed of your assault, a number of key prisoners were killed, the video recordings erased, and specific portions of the central computer system records, including the lance's assignment here, were also erased."

She paused a moment, gathering herself, then plowed ahead. "This betrayal has forced me to change my plans. Until I locate and eliminate this leak, my operations are compromised. The one thing I can be almost sure of is that your end is secure—the effort to eliminate you and your people was convincing, too close to succeeding, for me to believe otherwise. In light of these circumstances I've made two decisions. First, I have already announced myself and publicly declared the beginning of the Restoration movement. The Directorate is already aware of us, so there is no advantage to remaining hidden."

She looked straight into Donavan's eyes. "My second decision I am making now, and that is to place my complete trust in you. I am explaining my concerns and objectives because I am relying on you to act on my behalf even when I am unable to relay instructions. I am also committing to you my most valuable physical asset—this ship."

Donavan's jaw dropped open, utterly dumbstruck. The Argo was literally priceless, a relic of the Star League. And she was going to entrust it to him? He was just, well, _him_, a commander mostly be default of a small, struggling mercenary company in the middle of nowhere—this type of thing didn't happen to him.

"I have a small number of aerospace engineers that will train you on the ship's basic capabilities and remain aboard to keep things running under the command of the person who knows the ship best—Farah Murad. I am still gathering new recruits and preparing for our next move, which will take time. Your assignment is to recover your strength, continue operating and running missions until I send for you. Do what you can to harass the Directorate, but you are free to do other work as well. Gain strength and prepare for the fight to come."

She paused for a moment, looking each of them in the eye in turn. "I am taking a terrible risk, and against the advice of my own advisers, but I feel I have no choice. In a very real sense, the fate of the Restoration is in your hands. Good luck, all of you. Farah, I leave it to you."

She stepped forward, shook each person's hand, and headed out, flanked by her bodyguards, for her DropShip.

Farah Murad was a woman in her mid-thirties with the mixed skin tone so common across the galaxy. She wore a dark short-sleeved jacket over her blue shirt that transitioned seamlessly into a tight head scarf. "Hello again my mercenary friends. Before you officially take possession of the Argo I wanted to introduce myself in person—we never really got a chance to meet properly on Axylus. So, uh… hi. I'm Doctor Farah Murad, or just Farah if you prefer. It's nice to meet you all face to face."

Yang waved hello, instantly more comfortable with a fellow tech head. "Nice to meet ya, doc, and I have to say it was impressive work you did getting the Argo flying at all, not to mention under some pretty hostile conditions. Between you and me, I had my doubts."

She grinned. "Honestly? I did too. You should've seen what the Argo's interior looked like after a couple hundred years of pirate occupation. Actually, I take that back." Her grin slipped into a grimace. "If you'd seen what I saw, you would never have wanted to step foot inside. Take it from me, the ship has been deloused from bow to stern and every meter hosed down in industrial-grade disinfectant. And that was after most of it was vented to space. The ship is clean enough to eat off, I swear."

She glanced at the others. "Right. Back to the briefing. Ahem. After my short overview, we'll have breakout sessions with each of you covering your assigned portions of the ships. The Argo is a unique class of DropShip of which only two were ever made. The Argo was built in 2762 by Boeing Interstellar, massing in at 97,000 tons, and…

…

When Donavan's head was so crammed with information he was sure he'd need another half-dozen repetitions to remember, Farah had them take a break by leading a walking tour of the Argo. The ship was almost too much to believe. The cockpit was downright palatial compared to the Leopard, and the MechBay even more so. In fact, there were _three_ of them, all next to each other, though if they tried to get more than one running they'd short the entire power system and trigger the emergency systems to kill the engine to prevent it from overloading. Engineering was equally impressive to his unsophisticated eye, but Yang's jaw about hit the floor when Farah started talking numbers with him. And then there were the pods, Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. Each was intended as a mostly self-sufficient living quarters, each equipped with its own medical bay. The specs showed that Beta pod had hydroponics and a low-g gymnasium, and gamma pod had a recreation deck.

Unfortunately, pretty much all of it had been destroyed and the folks at the Lyreton shipyard had only barely gotten the Alpha pod back online. They'd dropped of the rest of the command team at their new stations as they went, leaving only Farah and Donavan as they made their way through Alpha pod to locate his new quarters.

They came to a halt outside the door, and he turned to face the engineer once more. "Doctor, I'm not afraid to admit I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment. I keep waiting for me to wake up, or for Lady Arano to change her mind about all this. So give me the bullet point version. How is the Argo?"

"I understand the feeling. I still feel that way, and I've been working on her since we recovered her. But maybe this will help make it all real to you, Commander—the Argo is a mess. I'm not sure which is more terrifying, the Argo's power system or its internal structure. By my calculations, so many support structures were compromised or striped that the thrust from the main drive should have severed the spine of the ship when it pulled away from the crash site. I think it's actually the external hull plating holding it together. We've reinforced it some, enough that I'm confident going up to one gravity of acceleration, but it's still in a bad way. As for the power, getting even a minimal level to the ship's systems without constantly tripping the breakers and suffering blowouts is a minor miracle. So yes, she's a marvel Commander, but she needs lots of time, resources, and money to keep her going, far more than for a single Leopard."

Donavan blinked. "Strangely, that kind of helps. But if you'll forgive me, doctor's orders require that I get a lot of rest, and I'm about ready to turn in. Darius and Yang will handle getting the pilots and MechTechs sorted."

"I understand. Goodnight, Commander."

She turned to go, and Donavan entered his new quarters so exhausted he barely registered anything that wasn't the bed. As he plopped on the newly replaced mattress his last thought was of how sad it was that humanity had had so much like this destroyed just to deny it from anyone else.

**September 14, 3025**

**The Argo**

**Deep Space**

Donavan stood in the special feature of Pod Alpha, a small observation deck. The stars very slowly moved by. They were under way to the jump point now, so the three habitation pods had stopped rotating and instead were folded back against the side of the ship, receiving gravity from thrust instead of centrifugal force. And so far, nothing had fallen off, which was a good sign.

He was still trying to come to grips with the Argo itself. It was originally built as an experimental prototype, a self-sufficient mobile base to support exploration ships, hence the docking collars and the unusually generous housing accommodations. Only two were ever made: the Argo which went missing at the start of the Amaris Civil War that destroyed the Star League, and the Myrmidon, which was never finished.

It also explained why the mind-bogglingly expensive ship had very little armor and only a handful of lasers for defense. It was 320 meters long and 215 both wide and high, making it almost five times longer, four times wider, and _ten_ times higher than the Leopard nestled alongside it, yet in a straight fight the Leopard had something like double its firepower and a hell of a lot more armor.

After a lot of thought, he'd boiled it down. On the upside, aside from being an incredible piece of Star League technology, it had what had once been an incredible 'Mech Bay with twelve ready stalls, so they could keep a large number of 'Mechs ready to go, especially if you threw in the Leopard's storage. But on the downside, in their current state the engines weren't going to move any faster than the Leopard's one gravity, and it required much, much, _much_ higher maintenance and fuel costs. Yes, the hydrogen collectors helped, but it was an energy and time-consuming process to freeze it down into liquid H2, so they'd probably still need to buy fuel. So… a much higher potential long term, but in the short term it was going to squeeze them even harder.

The hatch opened and he glanced over to see Sumire. "Hey. So, I guess we're fully in bed with Lady Arano now." He gestured to the ship around them.

Sumire shrugged. "She's rich, that's about all it takes to be a client in my books. There was a time when I'd find working for a Centrella unthinkable. The Magistracy of Canopus doesn't have the best reputation where I grew up. But in the grand scheme of things, childhood prejudices are no match for economic necessity. Hell, I'd work for Stefan Amaris if he paid well enough."

Donavan blinked. "Amaris, huh? How… mercenary of you."

"Yeah… I kind of wear it on my sleeve, don't I? Whatever, we're all in this for the money, I just choose to be honest about it."

"So, what do you make of our new ship?"

She moved to stand next to him and looked out at the stars. "It really is an impressive ship… assuming we can keep it flying."

He winced. "Yeah, I know. I suspect, or maybe just hope, that Kamea and the Canopians will shore us up for the time being. And forgive the stupid question, but who's currently flying the ship?"

"The Argo is. She actually has a full auto-pilot, if you can believe that—but before you panic, we didn't just take on Farah and her engineers—Lady Arano provided two other pilots as well, and one of them is keeping an eye on things up front for me."

They stood awhile in comfortable silence until Sumire spoke again. "If you don't mind, I've always been curious about the history of your Blackjack. What's its story?"

Donavan considered that for a moment. The story wasn't exactly a secret, but most 'Mechs were so tightly tied to their family of noble pilots that the 'Mech's history was essentially his family history. Then again, he wasn't ashamed of his past, and if he couldn't share it with another last surviving member of their House, who could he share it with? And, he discovered, he wanted to tell her.

"It was made back in 2780 in the General Motors production line on Kathil in Federated Suns space, just before the Star League disbanded. But with the unsubstantiated rumors of problems with the Blackjack's feet they offloaded her with and a bunch of other Blackjacks to what was left of the Fourth Tau Ceti Rangers who'd been disbanded. By the time the unit had pulled itself together they were too late and too far away to join the SLDF's Exodus from known space, and instead became mercenaries hired by the Capellan Confederation."

"My distant ancestor, Donavan Arvanites, was a MechWarrior with the Rangers at the time who'd lost his 'Mech and was given the Blackjack as a replacement. He helped take Outreach from the Terran Hegemony for the Capellans and held the line against the Federated Suns offensive during the First Succession War."

"He piloted it until 2795 when he retired and handed it to his daughter Kendra Arvanites. She fought in the Capellan counterattack into Federate Suns territory and helped to take the planet Caselton. She was killed in action during a raid in 2813 when a BattleMaster punched her, and it passed to her brother Helam until her daughter, Elise, turned eighteen in 2818."

"Elise piloted it until the disastrous attack on Emerson in 2830 where she was killed by an LRM to the cockpit. You can still see some old carbon scoring in the cockpit from the hit that killed her. Her sister Jasmine piloted it until Elise's son Basil came of age in 2840, who defended the Tikonov Commonality against Fed Suns raids until the offensive in 2860. The Capellans' Jade Castle defense plan may have been effective, but it was costly too, and Basil was killed in a fall when the JumpJets were damaged in a fighting retreat and he crash-landed in 2861. His son Erik piloted it shortly but was killed in the last months of the offensive in 2862, after which his sister Alice Melodan piloted it until Erik's only child, Ivan, took it up in 2878. Unfortunately for Erik, he was in a field medical treatment center on Las Helles during the Capellan offensive there when it was hit by artillery and he was killed."

"At that point the Blackjack went back to Alice and continued down the Melodan line. Alice lived long enough to retire and pass the 'Mech down to her daughter Alisha in 2894. However, after twenty years of fighting, Alisha was fed up with widespread corruption in the Confederation that had spread into the Rangers themselves and left, taking up residence on Hasturr, where they stayed up until a few years ago. And you know the story from there."

They stood in silence for a while, watching the stars go by, as Sumire process this. "Does it bother you, knowing so many of your family have died right there in that cockpit, sitting in the same seat?"

Donavan shrugged. "Not really. I'll admit that it can be a little strange, and I do tense up when the LRM's come in, knowing what they did to the cockpit once before. But if anything, it's a much greater connection to my past than most people can claim."

Sumire glanced over trying to read his expression, and Donavan smiled. "Pilots get that a lot. It's hard to explain, but there's something special about being a 'MechWarrior, beyond just the mystique and bravado. When you pull on the helmet, you don't just pilot the 'Mech, you _are_ the 'Mech, in a real sense. You see through its sensors, control its limbs as your own. There is no greater feeling of empowerment, no greater rush, than the moment you synch with a 'Mech you know well. It makes us go back, time and time again."

She gave him a crooked smile. "Maybe we're not so dramatic about it, but Leopard jocks are pilots too, you know. Maybe we don't get to punch things, but we _do_ tend to live a little longer to enjoy our success. And I wanted to bring that up with you, actually. You might want to consider hanging back a bit more in battle."

Donavan turned to face her squarely, concerned and a little irked she would question his tactical decisions. "Why?"

Sumire rolled her eyes. "I'm not questioning your skills or courage, Donavan, nor your decision-making on the grounds. What I _am_ saying is that you are the Commander here. I know, there are no guarantees on the battlefield, but if you go down out there, not only is the rest of the lance in trouble tactically, but we're all screwed strategically – Darius is a good executive officer, and has great contacts, but he's no commander. All I'm saying is, consider leaning more towards the fire-support role. Your controlling the battlefield and shooting your autocannons from afar is worth giving up four medium lasers in the fight."

Donavan bit his lip, unsure, and Sumire pressed her advantage. "Think about it. We're in a delicate situation here, where personal relationships are worth as much as contracts, at the start of what's looking like it could be a full-scale civil war. Kamea's biggest advantage is she somehow managed to get ahold of our debt. Us, and in some ways, _you _are her biggest threat against the entire Directorate. They will be gunning for you, specifically. What happened on Weldry might have been a fluke, but it might not have been, either, and we can certainly expect ambushes to try to take you out in the near future. I, along with everyone else on this ship, can't afford to lose you.

The Commander nodded slowly. "You're right, as usual. I'll think about it and see what we can do."

**September 15, 3025**

**Aurigan Directorate**

**Weldry**

The HPG hummed and Lady Ana-Maria Centrella appeared before Alexander.

"Lord Madeira, I take it this is urgent?"

"Yes, Lady Centrella, I'm afraid I don't have much time. Lady Arano will return shortly."

"Then speak."

Alexander took a moment to reign in his hanger. "Lady Centrella, when I approached you and offered to give you access to Lady Arano, we both agreed that it was in the interests of both the Magistracy and House Madeira that the Restoration movement be a small-scale, controlled effort. I warned you not to give her total control over any military assets, and especially not over BattleMechs; she's volatile enough to think she can change the whole periphery when she's in the cockpit of her 'Mech."

Lady Centrella frowned coldly. "Just as House Madeira's interests do not always align with that of your Aurigan Coalition, what is best for the Magistracy is not always what is best for House Centrella. And for a man as slippery as you, eliminating some mercenaries shouldn't prove difficult. In fact, I believe you already made an attempt, if those rumors of an imminent pirate raid on the icebox that House Madeira miraculously stumbled upon and shared with the Directorate are any indication. Fortuitously, the warning gave the Directorate just enough time to slip in a lance of BattleMechs from the other side of the planet, but not enough to bring in firepower from offworld."

Alexander paused a moment, reassessing. He'd come into this conversation hoping to win a point over Lady Centrella, and it wasn't exactly going to plan. He was hardly in a position to judge her choice – he of all people knew that when kingdom and house conflicted, the house always came first. Well, she had evidence, possibly even proof, of his actions to hold over his head, but he was still useful to her, as well. Time to remind her of that fact.

"I… see. Thank you for confirming how and why this happened. If you will forgive me, I will return to overseeing the troops and ensuring they remain closely supervised. With the mercenaries out of my hands, it is more important than ever that our remaining resources remain properly directed."


End file.
